A Heart's Cry
by Diamond-Raven
Summary: After destroying the Tesseract machine, the years and events which follow ultimately lead to the future Beka and Trance glimpsed in their future selves. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 1  
  
Disclaimer: All characters or references to Andromeda belong to Tribune Entertainment, not me. The dialogue which I borrowed from 'Ouroboros', 'Fear and Loathing in the Milky Way' and 'It's Hour Come Round at Last' were not intended as an infringement, but were necessary for the plot. The characters in the story all belong to the writers of Andromeda who created them, including Colonel Yau, Admiral Cuatemoc, Beatricia, Hohne, Reekeb, Charlemagne Bolivar and Elsbett Bolivar, and of course, the magnificent seven. All other characters were my creation. Borrow them at your will.  
  
1.2 Author: Raven  
  
Story Rating: R (nothing sexual, just my usual disturbing tragic stuff)  
  
Summary: The first time the crew used the Tesseract machine, they decided to destroy the machine, save Hoehne's life and sacrifice Harper's life. The unpredictable years which follow this take the crew their separate ways and ultimately bring them to the future which Beka and Trance glimpsed in their future selves.  
  
Author's Note: I had sworn a long time ago that I would never post unfinished stories, but now I'm breaking that promise…(Raven throws up her hands and tries to hide from readers who start glaring in disapproval)…Partly this is because this story is extremely long. Think twice as long as 'Eternal Hope' was…(Raven tries to crawl underneath her desk now but finds it's hard to type that way so she comes back up)…But also it's because it's my first real Beka story and I don't know if it's any good. I've written about 78 pages of it already and I'm half way through, but I decided to post a few chapters and see how you guys like it. Basically, this is me begging for feedback here. If you loved it, tell me, if you hated it, tell me that too. Depending on how you guys like it, I'll finish it and post more of the chapters up or I'll throw it into my recycling bin and start something new.  
  
Small note to people like Parisindy: Don't worry, there's quite a bit of Harper, but not in the same way that you're used to in my stories. ( What, you ask, did I do with Harper? Well,…(evil grin)…you're just going to have to read it, now won't you?  
  
'Another ditch in the road, you keep moving.  
  
Another stop-sign, you keep moving on.  
  
And the years go by so fast.  
  
Wonder how I ever made it through.'  
  
1.2.1 'Two Beds and a Coffee Machine', Savage Garden  
  
'The universe doesn't always give you what you want, but it always gives you what you need.'  
  
1.2.2 Reverend Behemial Far Traveller  
  
"So, Mr.Harper, what do you want to do about the machine?" Dylan asked, glancing over at the shaken engineer.  
  
Harper licked his dry lips, his nervous eyes darting back and forth between the door, Dylan and the machine. "I don't know. Maybe…maybe Rekeeb was right. I mean, I'm just a good looking, young, brilliant engineer. Hohne…" A faint smiled flickered across his tense face. "Hohne's a genius. I mean, if it's him or me, he's the one who really matters."  
  
"Harper, that's not true!" Beka interupted.  
  
Harper whipped around and looked at her. "Yes, it is Beka! Hohne's worth a million of me. As I said, I can't just choose my life over his. It isn't fair. I only matter to you people, but Hohne matters to an entire planet. Besides, he's got a whole freakin' library depending on him. I can't just let him die because I don't feel like dying right now." A sob crept into his last words and his voice caught in his throat. He bit his shaking lip and stared at the floor. "Destroy the machine." He whispered.  
  
Dylan's gaze slid onto the floor. A tense silence filled the room following Harper's outburst. The only sound was the paranoid weezing of Reekeb from the corner.  
  
A dull thud reached their ears. Then another.  
  
Rommie looked up. "More Magog ships have attached themselves to my hull. The ones which have already boarded are just fifty meters from command."  
  
Dylan nodded.  
  
Tyr stepped forward. He glanced down at Harper who was staring at the Tesseract machine with an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
"I suggest we start dismantling the machine immediately. If we do it fast enough I imagine things will return to normal before those—things—reach command, or this machine shop for that matter."  
  
Reekeb jumped forward, an eager smile on his face. He reached forward and started tearing glowing wires out of the device.  
  
"No!" Beka cried and jumped forward.  
  
Reekeb shrunk away from the machine, his eyes widening. Beka turned to Harper, a pleading look in her eyes.  
  
"Please, Harper. Don't do this." She begged. "Seamus, please."  
  
Harper looked at her, his eyes filled with a sadness Dylan had never seen in them before. He gave her a small smile. "Beka, life isn't fair. You know that. Sometimes you have to make tough choices that you might not want to make but still have to. This is one of them." He said quietly.  
  
Beka stared at him, fighting between letting the truth sink in or to continue clinging to denial like a child.  
  
She took a deep breath. Harper had made his choice. He had every right to make that choice. She couldn't stop him. Calmly, she nodded and stepped back from the machine.  
  
After glancing back and forth between her and Harper with nervous twitches, Reekeb reached forward again, still worried that the tall blond officer might kill him when he touched the machine.  
  
Quickly, he started tearing wires out of the device. Finally, he reached in and took out the entire Tesseract device and gently placed it onto a counter behind him.  
  
Immediately, the blinking lights in the machine went out and the glowing wires grew dark.  
  
Every pair of eyes in the room was on the machine.  
  
Suddenly, the Tesseract device started glowing again and a strange green light started glowing within it. The light spread away from the machine and slowly covered the entire room. Waves of energy flooded the room as everyone's hands came up to guard their eyes from the glare.  
  
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the green light was sucked back into the machine. The waves of energy disappeared.  
  
One little burst of electricity flickered across the device before that too died and the entire device fell silent.  
  
Harper slowly walked up to it. He squinted and stared at it.  
  
"Yup, it's dead." He said, his voice flat.  
  
Rommie was staring at the ceiling. Beka glanced at her. "Rommie?"  
  
"The Magog and their ships have disappeared. The Kalderans are also gone, along with our old crew and the few androids from my darling sister."  
  
Dylan breathed out a sigh of relief.  
  
Reekeb piped up excitedly. "And—and—Hohne?" he asked breathlessly.  
  
Rommie smiled. "He should be—"  
  
The door of the machine shop opened and Technical Advisor Hohne walked in. His cap was hanging askew on his head and a flexi was in his hands.  
  
An enormous smile spread across his face and his eyes twinkled as he saw them. He raised a finger in the air.  
  
"Ah! Mr.Harper! There you are!I believe I just figured out a direct pattern in those energy fluctuations. You see, they are like an inverse curve in a way so it's quite probable that—"  
  
His excited voice tappered off when he saw the wires lying on the floor and the still Tesseract device on the counter.  
  
Dylan stepped forward. "Hohne, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Sinti contacted us and said that the disturbances were so bad on the planet that we'd have to stop the experiment unless we wanted to risk tearing the planet apart."  
  
Hohne's face fell. "But we were so close! It would have been a scientific break through! Ground breaking research! We could have made history!" he whined.  
  
Dylan bit his lip and stared at the floor. "Well, I'm afraid that you'll just have to wait for another time."  
  
"Oh." Hohne nodded a few times, his disappointment still obvious. His head suddenly jerked up and he stared at Harper. "But, what about Mr.Harper? Those Magog eggs won't be—"  
  
"We're well aware of that, Hohne." Dylan interupted him. He really didn't want to hear him say it. He really didn't want to hear it. He pasted a smile on his face. "Well, I have to thank you for all the time you've spent here, and all the help you've been, but I'm afraid that you had better go back down to Sinti."  
  
Hohne nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, yes, but of course. Seeing the present circumstances, I completely agree. Reekeb and I will be leaving immediately."  
  
He gave Reekeb a signal and the other Perseid scampered out of the room to collect their equipment.  
  
Hohne stared at the destroyed device one last time before looking up at Harper.  
  
The young engineer was still staring at the device.  
  
Hohne quietly walked up to him. "Mr.Harper, if I might say something?"  
  
Harper slowly looked up at him. His eyes were completely blank. Hohne found it vaguely disturbing, but decided to ignore it.  
  
"If I shall never see you again, then I must say this now. It has been a real pleasure getting to work with a man whose genius rivals my own. You truly have one of the most brilliant minds I have ever encountered."  
  
Harper gave him a small smile.  
  
Hohne returned it with one of his grins. "I hope that one day we shall meet again."  
  
Slowly, he turned around and walked towards the door, briskly hopping over a bundle of wires which lay on the floor.  
  
"I don't think that'll ever happen." Harper's flat voice called after him.  
  
Hohne stopped in the doorway and turned around, his cap flapping around his ears. He grinned.  
  
"Yes, Mr.Harper, but one can always hope, can't they?" And with that, he turned around and disappeared through the doorway.  
  
The door quietly swished closed behind him and everyone in the room stared at it in silence.  
  
Suddenly, a spasm of pain tore through Harper's stomache. With a cry of pain, he doubled over.  
  
Beka jumped to his side. "Harper!"  
  
He clutched at his stomache, pain flickering across his face as he weezed in pain.  
  
Trance briefly touched his arm. He glanced up at her, his jaw clenched.  
  
"Trance, help me." He whispered in a shaking voice, raw pain laced in his words.  
  
Trance nodded. "We need to get you to Med deck." She glanced around the room. "Now."  
  
Harper tried to move his legs forward, but the tearing of his gut increased and he fell to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back tears of pain which he knew would come.  
  
"Harper!" Beka cried again. She knelt down beside him. Harper glanced up at her and gave her a shaky smile. A thin film of sweat covered his forehead and his hands were shaking as they clutched his stomache.  
  
Beka jerked her head up. "He can't walk to Med deck like this."  
  
Tyr stepped forward without a word and roughly pushed Beka aside. He bent down beside the shaking form of Harper and gently picked him up.  
  
Harper gave a strangled cry as Tyr moved him, but bit his lip to keep quiet. Tyr briefly smiled.  
  
Trying to move as quickly as possible, Tyr hurried through the machine shop door, gently cradling Harper's shaking body in his arms. He could feel the tremors of pain coursing through Harper's body and could hear the pain in his ragged breathing.  
  
Beka walked beside them as Trance and Rommie ran ahead to the Med deck.  
  
"I'll get the morphine ready!" Rommie yelled over her shoulder before she and Trance disappeared around a corner.  
  
Tyr felt something shift within Harper's body. Harper tensed and bit his lip as he tried to keep his cries of obvious pain hidden.  
  
"Yell if you want to, boy. It won't do you any good to try and be tough for me. You will have to be tough for them first." He muttered.  
  
Harper gave him a brief smile.  
  
Tyr glanced down at the little human in his arms. His face was getting paler as they went and his breathing was becoming shallower.  
  
His painfilled eyes started fluttering closed. Tyr gave him an impatient shake. "Not now, Harper!"  
  
Harper's eyes remained closed, his ragged breathing tearing through his body. Tyr was about to shake him again when Beka reached over and gently squeezed Harper's hand.  
  
"Seamus? You still with me?" she asked softly.  
  
Harper's eyes slowly opened again. He struggled to keep his painfilled eyes focused on Beka. When he recognized her, he gave her a weak smile.  
  
"Yeah, boss." Came the whispered reply.  
  
Beka nodded. She tried not to let her fear show when she heard how weak he was getting.  
  
"You better not give up on me, Seamus Harper. You hear me?"  
  
He smiled again. "I'll try boss. Don't worry. I'll try." He whispered, his voice so weak that she barely heard it.  
  
Beka glanced at Tyr. Fear was evident in both of their eyes.  
  
Without a word, Tyr started running, Beka right beside him.  
  
The door to Med deck was already open and Dylan was waiting for them. Tyr ran past him and gently put Harper onto the bed. Trance immediately started attaching various tubes to him while Rommie kept on firing instructions at her.  
  
Beka ran to Harper's side.  
  
Once again, she could see something inside of him move. Harper's feverish eyes widened and he screamed, gasping for breath.  
  
Beka grabbed his hand and he clutched it so hard she thought he might break her fingers. But she didn't let go.  
  
He continued gasping for breath, tears of pain now coursing down his face. Beads of sweat ran down his pale face. He turned to Trance, a pleading look on his face.  
  
"Trance, help me." He sobbed. Trance gave him a firm nod. Quickly, she attached a large vial of morphine to one of the tubes she had attached to Harper's arm. She opened the vial, and a clear liquid started flowing into Harper's arm.  
  
Several minutes passed,but then the morphine started to take effect. The tenseness drained out of Harper's body and his death grip on Beka's hand relaxed. His eyes fluttered closed again. Beka gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
"Seamus?You still with me?" she asked.  
  
His eyes opened again. He looked up at her, his eyes still feverish but a little calmer. A weak smile flickered across his face. "Yeah, boss." He whispered.  
  
Beka looked up at Trance, who was punching various buttons on the console to which Harper was hooked up.  
  
"Trance, how long will the morphine work?"  
  
Trance glanced at her. She shook her head. "I don't know. A few minutes, a few hours, maybe even a few days. But—" she glanced at the still figure lying on the bed beside her. "Even if the morphine lasts for a long time, the Magog eggs are still going to hatch." She raised her eyes up to meet Beka's. Beka could see the same fear in them that she knew was in hers. "Harper only has a few hours left." Trance whispered.  
  
Beka bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
She was going to lose him. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she fought, she would lose him.  
  
For the first time in her life, she wouldn't be able to save him. No matter how much money she spent, how many people she bribed, how many favors she had to pull, no matter how much she yelled and argued and fought, she would still lose him.  
  
She forced her eyes open again and stared at the still figure lying in front of her. His eyes had closed again and lay sunken in his pale face. His breathing was still ragged and the visible effort it took for him to breath in and out was written on the faint lines of pain which flickered across his face.  
  
She was actually going to lose him.  
  
She felt a lump forming in her throat and felt the hot tears creeping down from her eyelids.  
  
Suddenly, she shook her head. Now was not the time to break down. Not yet.  
  
She had to be strong for Harper. Even if it was one last time, she would still be strong for him.  
  
One last time.  
  
She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and blinked the tears back.  
  
She gently let go of Harper's hand and walked out of the Med deck. 


	2. Chapter 2

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Dylan and Tyr were standing in the corridor, Tyr leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and Dylan standing there, his arms crossed and one hand stroking his chin.  
  
Beka knew that he only did that when he was worried. Deathly worried.  
  
She cleared her throat. Mainly this was to get the attention of the two brooding men, but also to clear the final remainders of that lump out of her throat.  
  
Dylan glanced up at her.  
  
Neither of them said anything.  
  
She crossed her arms and hugged herself. "So, what are we going to do?" she asked quietly.  
  
Silence met her question.  
  
Finally, Tyr looked up at them. "The answer to that is fairly simple. I made the little man a promise." Tyr glanced at Beka. "One which I intend to keep."  
  
Beka's head snapped up. She took a step back from Tyr.  
  
"No."  
  
The single word cut like a knife through the silence. Dylan looked up at her, his eyes tired and sad.  
  
"Beka, we have no other choice."  
  
"No." she repeated.  
  
"Beka—"  
  
"No. I said, no! Can't you hear me, Dylan? I said no!" She found herself screaming.  
  
Dylan rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Beka, please, we have no other choice."  
  
"We are not going to kill him." She said, her voice flat.  
  
Dylan looked at her.  
  
"There has to be another way, Dylan. There has to be. We are not going to kill him."  
  
Dylan sighed and glanced at Tyr. "Beka, whatever we decide to do, we have to do it within the next hour. Harper doesn't have more than an hour left."  
  
She shook her head, not having heard a word Dylan was saying. "No."  
  
Dylan slowly walked up to her and took hold of her arms. Slowly, she looked up at him.  
  
"Beka, I suggest that you go and say good bye to Harper." He whispered.  
  
Beka looked up at him, her eyes filled with despair.  
  
"But, Dylan, what if there is something else we can do? What if?" she asked, still not willing to believe that she wouldn't be able to save him.  
  
Dylan shook his head. "Beka, there is nothing we can do."  
  
She slowly nodded, but in her mind she hadn't heard what he had said. She absolutely refused to believe that there was nothing she could do. Someway, somehow she would save him. She always did.  
  
Numbly, she turned and walked into Med deck.  
  
One by one, the crew came in to say good bye to Harper. Dylan had been the first. He had come in and quietly stood by Harper's bedside.  
  
Harper had slowly opened his eyes. When he saw Dylan standing there, he gave him a small smile.  
  
"It's time, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
Dylan nodded.  
  
Harper took a deep breath and licked his dry lips. He glanced up at Dylan.  
  
"Dylan, I want you to know that you've been the best boss I've ever had, asides from Beka." His weak gaze never left his captain's face as he slowly forced the whispered words from his lips.  
  
"I want to thank you for, you know, putting up with me for such a long time. Not throwing me out like you should have." He gave him a smile. "Thanks."  
  
Dylan nodded. His throat was too tight to say anything, but he could tell that Harper knew everything he was going to say anyway, so he didn't need to say anything.  
  
He cleared his throat, and finally found his voice again. "Good bye, Mr.Harper."  
  
Harper smiled up at him. "Bye, Dylan."  
  
Slowly, Dylan turned and walked towards the doorway. Just before he went out, he heard Harper weakly call his name from behind him. He stopped.  
  
"Yes, Harper?"  
  
He barely heard his whispered words when he answered him, but they carried across the silent room as clearly as if Harper would have yelled them.  
  
"Long live the Commonwealth."  
  
Without another word, Dylan walked out of the room.  
  
Rommie was next. She went in determined not to cry, but when Harper asked her to always remember him, she had broken down. With tears running down her face, she had sobbed out that he was closer to her than anyone she had ever known and that she would never forget him as long as she lived.  
  
Then Harper made her promise to always take care of herself.  
  
"You're the only shining star left in a dark, black universe, Rommie. If you stop shining, then there won't be any light for anybody to see anything by anymore." He whispered. He clutched her hand. "Promise me that you'll keep on shining. Not just for Dylan and the others, but for everyone."  
  
Rommie nodded, squeezing his hand. She drew in a deep breath and smiled at him through her tears.  
  
"I promise, Harper."  
  
Without another word, Rommie released his hand and slowly walked out of the room.  
  
Then it was Trance's turn. She slowly sat down on his bed, watching him quietly sleeping for a few minutes before he opened his eyes.  
  
She smiled. "Hey."  
  
He tried to grin at her, but he was too weak and the grin flickered off his face as soon as it had come.  
  
They stared at each other for a few minutes. The human from earth and the strange purple girl from some unknown world.  
  
"Thanks, Trance."  
  
She smiled. "For what?"  
  
"For being my best friend."  
  
She smiled again and lightly squeezed his hand. Harper stared up at her.  
  
"Trance, I want you to promise me something, okay?"  
  
She nodded. "Anything."  
  
"Promise me you'll take care of them. Of Dylan, and of Beka and Rommie, and even Tyr. They need you Trance. Promise me you'll take care of them." His voice was so weak that Trance had to lean forward to hear his words.  
  
She smiled. "I promise."  
  
A satisfied smile crossed his tired face as he slowly closed his eyes again.  
  
Without another word, Trance got up and walked out of the room.  
  
Beka's knees nearly gave out as she walked into the room. Come on,Valentine! Get a grip! She swallowed hard and forced herself to walk to the chair beside his bed without crumbling.  
  
Harper's eyes slowly opened when he heard her sit down.  
  
"Hey, boss."  
  
"Hey." She said, her voice shaking. She swallowed again, forcing that lump down again.  
  
She tried to paste a smile on her face, but when he turned his face and looked at her, he gave her a weak, understanding smile.  
  
"You don't have to be tough for me, you know that Beka." He whispered.  
  
Immediately, the smile crumbled and the lump was back in her throat.  
  
She clutched his hand. All the fear and the pain she had been suppressing over the past hour were back.  
  
"Harper, I can't lose you." She choked out, tears coursing down her face.  
  
He tried to squeeze her hand, but he was so weak that Beka could only feel a little tremor.  
  
Harper looked up at her. "Don't cry for me, boss. I don't deserve it."  
  
"Harper, you're the only one in my life who deserves me crying! Hell, you're the only one I've got left, and now I'm going to lose you too!" She sobbed.  
  
Slowly, he reached up his hand and weakly brushed the tears off her cheeks. She clutched his hand and held it against her cheek.  
  
"Beka, you know as well as I do that I didn't want this. But life isn't fair. You know that."  
  
She kept on crying, clutching his hand against her face.  
  
A small tear escaped Harper's eyelids and rolled down his pale face.  
  
He swallowed hard. He knew he didn't have a lot of time left.  
  
He looked up at Beka again.  
  
"Beka, I want you to know that you're the most important person in my life—"  
  
"Harper, don't." she pleaded.  
  
He gave her a watery smile. "Boss, if I don't say it now, I'll never get to say it."  
  
"Beka, I owe my entire life to you. You gave me everything I have today. You gave me laughter, you gave me freedom, and you gave me hope. That's something nobody had ever been able to do. Give me hope. But you did it. You did so much more for me than you should have, Beka. Again and again, you threw your life out the window just so could save mine. I never deserved you Beka, and I'll willingly admit that. You're an angel, Beka." He whispered, tears running down his face. Beka continued clutching his hand against her cheek, sobbing as pain raked through her heart.  
  
"Thank you, Beka. For everything."  
  
She kept on sobbing, not able to say a word.  
  
He swallowed back his tears and drew in a deep breath. He really didn't have much time left now. He had to hurry.  
  
"Beka, I don't got a lot of time left, so I got to hurry. Beka, you have to promise me something."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Beka, you gotta promise me that you'll keep on living life without me. You have to let me go, okay?"  
  
"Harper, how can I just—?"  
  
"Beka, you have to. Promise me that."  
  
She wordlessly shook her head. How could she let him go? How the hell could she just let him go?  
  
He licked his dry lips. "And Beka, there's something else." He stopped and took a few deep breaths. "Beka, you have to promise me that you'll take care of yourself. No matter what happens, you'll always take care of yourself."  
  
Sobbing, she nodded, not really aware of what he had said. "I promise." She choked out, still clutching his hand.  
  
A look of relief swept over Harper's face as he slowly closed his eyes.  
  
Suddenly, Beka realized that Dylan was behind her. He was gently pulling her hand away from Harper's and drawing her up from the chair.  
  
Not realizing what he was doing or where he was leading her, she kept on sobbing, only aware of the dull pain which dug through her heart with every step.  
  
She saw through her tears the blurred image of Tyr going into the Med deck after giving Dylan a quiet nod. She kept on sobbing. She felt Trance's arms around her and felt herself sitting down on the floor, only aware of the pain within her heart.  
  
Tyr quietly walked into the room, watching the weak and pale figure which lay unmoving on the bed. His eyes quickly swept over him and he realized with some relief that he was still breathing.  
  
He stood beside his bedside, waiting for him to open his eyes.  
  
Finally, Harper forced his tired eyes open. He didn't seem a bit surprised to see Tyr.  
  
"So, you decided to keep your promise after all?"  
  
Tyr nodded. "I don't make promises I can't keep."  
  
Harper gave him a small smile. "Do me a favor and remember that, Tyr." He whispered weakly.  
  
Tyr felt a surprising lump in his throat as he stared down at Harper.  
  
He swallowed it and slightly shook his head. There was not a damn chance in hell he was going to break down now.  
  
He quickly pulled out his force lance and turned it on. He saw Harper's tired eyes watching the weapon.  
  
Tyr glanced at him. "Would you like to close your eyes?"  
  
Harper smiled, remembering the last time the Nietzschean had asked him that. He smiled when he remembered what he had answered.  
  
"Well, Tyr, I was wrong."  
  
Tyr frowned. "About what?"  
  
Harper gave a strangled, bitter laugh. "I thought they weren't so tough."  
  
Tyr didn't smile. He tore his eyes off of Harper's pale face and went back to adjusting the settings on his lance. He realized his fingers were shaking.  
  
Harper smiled when he saw Tyr's shaking hands. "Tyr, before you do it, promise me something."  
  
Tyr glanced up.  
  
Harper took a deep breath. "Always remember that it's okay to be human once in a while."  
  
Tyr stared at him.  
  
Harper gave him a weak smile.  
  
Beka sat in the corridor, sobbing. All she was aware of was that constant, aching pain in her heart.  
  
She was going to lose him. She was going to lose him. She was going to lose him.  
  
Everyone had gone in to see him already and say their goodbyes, and Trance was so sure he wasn't going to last much longer, and now Tyr went in—  
  
Suddenly her mind cleared. No! Tyr couldn't kill him. No! There was no way in hell she'd let him be killed! No!  
  
She clutched the wall behind her and pulled herself up. She found her legs and arms were shaking, but she bit her lip and stumbled towards the door.  
  
Dylan jumped forward and grabbed her arms.  
  
"Beka, stay here."  
  
"No." she said. Dylan was shocked at the sudden flatness in her voice.  
  
"Beka—"  
  
"Dylan, I said no!" She turned towards the door again, but Dylan grabbed her arms. She started fighting him and struggled to loosen his hold on her.  
  
She twisted in his grasp, desperation making her fight stronger. "I said no! You can't kill him!" She screamed, fighting like a wild cat. Dylan struggled not to lose his hold on her as she kicked at him and tried to wrench her arms out of his grasp. She got one hand free and started clawing at him. Dylan tried to grab her hand again.  
  
"Beka, please—"  
  
"No!" She screamed, completely hysterical now. She kept on fighting. She had to get to that door. She had to get to that damn door. She had to!  
  
Suddenly, a shot rang out from within the room.  
  
For a moment, everyone froze. Dylan's grip on her loosened with shock. She stood there, stunned disbelief frozen on her face.  
  
Suddenly, realizing she was free, she tore herself from Dylan's shocked grasp and ran into the room. As soon as she ran through the door, she skid to a halt, her wild eyes staring around the room.  
  
Gasping for breath, she stared at Tyr, who had slowly turned and was staring at her, a haunted expression in his eyes. The smoldering lance in his hand dropped from his grip and fell onto the floor with a dull clatter.  
  
Beka slowly tore her gaze off of him and stared at the still figure on the bed.  
  
It took her a moment to realize that the person on the bed was dead.  
  
It took her even longer to realize that the person was Harper.  
  
Still gasping for breath, her eyes widened as a grief so immense that she nearly choked gripped her.  
  
She turned back to the man standing beside the bed, the dropped force lance lying at his feet.  
  
Suddenly, a murderous rage filled her.  
  
She lunged at Tyr, her hands outstretched, raw rage sparking in her eyes. "You killed him!" she screamed.  
  
Dylan managed to grab her arms just before she reached Tyr. She started fighting Dylan again, clawing, kicking and punching wildly at him. Her hair flew into her eyes as tears coursed down her face.  
  
She kept on fighting, screaming hysterically. "You killed him! You killed him! Murderer!"  
  
"Beka! Get a hold of yourself!"  
  
"You killed him!" She stretched out a hand and tried to claw at Tyr, fighting madly to loosen Dylan's hold on her.  
  
"Tyr! Get out of here!" Dylan yelled at the stunned man who still stood beside the bed, a dazed expression in his eyes.  
  
Slowly, Tyr walked out of the room.  
  
Beka continued screaming and fighting, until Dylan swiftly slapped her across the face, sending her sprawling onto the floor.  
  
Suddenly, the words froze on her lips.  
  
As she lay on the cold, metal floor, she felt her anger dissolving, and being replaced by something else.  
  
Grief.  
  
It was so immense, so enormous that it filled her entire body. Beka squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for breath and trying to keep the pain from tearing her apart.  
  
Then the tears came.  
  
They freely flowed down her face, burning her skin as they ran down, taking with them that biting grief which filled her heart and body.  
  
As she sobbed, she felt Dylan pick her up and cradle her in his arms.  
  
She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing hysterically. Then the pain got so bad that she screamed, her scream being lost in another wave of sobs that raked through her body.  
  
"I lost him!" she sobbed. "I lost him!"  
  
Dylan slowly rocked her back and forth, his own tears coursing down his face.  
  
He tried to think of something to say to her that would ease this pain for her, but he found that his pain was so strong that he couldn't think of anything except for his own grief.  
  
He buried his face in her hair and sobbed too, the grief welling up inside of him.  
  
Beside them lay the force lance. It had quietly rolled underneath the bed and now lay there, unmoving on the cold, metal floor.  
  
* * * * * (Three months later) * * * * *  
  
Dylan yawned and wearily rubbed his eyes with his hands.  
  
He moodily stared around his quarters, trying to avoid looking at the flexi which was on his desk.  
  
Colonel Yau had flown over from Castalia the day before and had requested an urgent meeting with Dylan. When she had first contacted him three months ago, Dylan hadn't had the faintest idea what she had wanted, but after she gave him a very strange look and reminded him that he was still fighting a war, Dylan had remembered.  
  
Sure, he had remembered, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. He had blinked at her, unable to even remember exactly who they were fighting.  
  
Rommie had gently told the Colonel that the crew was currently grieving and having a difficult time, and perhaps she should contact them later.  
  
The Colonel had demanded to know who on earth would be more important than a war, but after Rommie had told her exactly who it was, she had abruptly shut her mouth, a stunned expression crossing her face.  
  
Stammering slightly, she had told Rommie to tell Dylan to take all the time he needed.  
  
Dylan continued staring around his quarters. When he looked up at the Commonwealth pin chart which hung on the wall opposite his desk, he was surprised to find himself caring about its presence.  
  
For the past few months, he hadn't been able to care for very much at all. But now, now, he was glad to say that the numb grief which had clutched at him was slowly starting to recede.  
  
He had accepted Harper's death and was slowly starting to get used to life without him.  
  
The rest of his crew were slowly starting to pick themselves up too.  
  
Trance and Rommie had started talking again, having been cloaked in heavy silence for weeks. Trance had completely neglected her plants in hydroponics and had sat in the Obs deck for hours, just staring out into the night. Now, her plants were thriving again and she had actually smiled this morning when Dylan had made some stupid, funny comment about something.  
  
Rommie was much the same. Her main AI had at first insisted that her avatar use compartmentalization to block out Harper's death so she could continue her regular duties, but Rommie had refused. That had sparked a long and fierce debate with her main AI, who was so outraged at Rommie's neglect of her duties that she had sworn she would order Dylan to dismantle her. But, Rommie had quickly soothed her temper. She had quietly reminded the furious AI that Harper had built her with the sole intention of letting her experience the life of a human being. Grieving, she argued, was part of being human.  
  
Her main AI had abruptly stopped arguing.  
  
Even Beka was getting better. At first she had locked herself in the Maru for days, cutting all the internal sensors and not letting anybody near her. The few times she did appear in the corridors of the Andromeda, she would pass by Dylan, or anybody else for that matter, without really seeing them and not talking to them. There were even the few times when she forgot about Harper's death. When the slipstream drive broke, she had sighed and smiled and said she would go and get Harper to come and fix it. By the time she reached the door, the smile slid off her face and reality hit her harshly in the face as she remembered. She had completely broken down, sobbing bitterly as she collapsed onto the floor. None of them had been able to comfort her.  
  
Dylan sighed.  
  
But she was slowly starting to heal too. Little by little, she was starting to heal. She had actually started talking to the rest of the crew again and no longer walked through the corridors like a ghost.  
  
But a part of her would never be the same. She didn't smile anymore. Never. There was a bitterness in her now that would never heal. In her eyes, in her walk, in the tenseness of her body hid a bitterness, one which Dylan couldn't bypass no matter how hard he tried.  
  
Tyr was much the same. If Dylan thought the Nietzschean could be withdrawn before, that was nothing compared to now.  
  
Something within him had died. He too had a bitterness within him which Dylan couldn't fix.  
  
Dylan shook his head. He had wished desperately over the past few weeks that everybody would return to normal, but he knew he was a fool for thinking so.  
  
His crew would never be the same again.  
  
Neither would he.  
  
As if on cue, the door to his quarters swished open and Tyr walked in, interupting Dylan's brooding.  
  
The tall man slowly walked across the room and lowered himself in the chair facing Dylan's.  
  
Neither of them spoke.  
  
Finally, Tyr shifted in his chair and glanced at the flexi lying on Dylan's desk.  
  
He nodded at it with his chin.  
  
"Do you wish to continue this war?" he asked, his voice flat.  
  
Dylan raised his eyes to his face. He couldn't read his expression. Like always.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"It is a fool's war, Captain Hunt."  
  
Dylan didn't answer.  
  
A heavy silence fell between them.  
  
Finally, Tyr broke it by speaking again.  
  
"Then I'm afraid I will take my leave of this ship."  
  
Dylan abruptly straightened up. "You want to leave?"  
  
Tyr raised his eyebrows. "I believe that is what I just said."  
  
"Why, Tyr?"  
  
"I already told you, Captain Hunt. This is a fool's war, one in which I wish to take no part."  
  
"But, Tyr, we need you." Dylan exclaimed, not wanting to believe his ears.  
  
Tyr didn't answer.  
  
Dylan sighed. "Tyr, if you want to leave, then you can. I can't stop you. You've done too much for me and this crew for me to force you to stay."  
  
Dylan lightly rested his elbows on his desk, searching Tyr's face for any emotion, any expression which he could read. He knew that Tyr wouldn't only leave because of the war. There had to be another reason.  
  
As he stared at Tyr, the Nietzschean slowly raised his eyes and stared at Dylan. Dylan could see the bitterness gleaming within them.  
  
That bitterness which had erupted after Harper's death.  
  
Suddenly, Dylan knew.  
  
"Tyr, this isn't only about the war, is it?" he asked. "You want to leave because of what happened to Harper. Tyr, you know as well as I do that there was nothing else we could do. You had to do what you had to do. Regretting it or feeling guilty about it won't do anything. You had to do it."  
  
Tyr stared at him, his expression not changed.  
  
"Captain Hunt, I don't remember bringing Mr.Harper's name into this conversation at all. You are straying from the topic of conversation."  
  
Dylan sighed. "Fine. Tyr if you want to leave, I won't stop you."  
  
Without a word, Tyr got up and walked towards the door. Before he walked through it, he paused and turned back to Dylan.  
  
"Dylan, I will not go as far as to wish you a victory which you won't get, but I will wish you all luck. You, your crew, and this ship."  
  
Dylan smiled. "Thank you, Tyr. Same to you."  
  
Tyr nodded and turned around again. Slowly, he walked through the doorway. Softly, the metal door swished closed behind him.  
  
Dylan had barely let his gaze fall back onto the flexi on his desk when the door opened again. He looked up.  
  
Beka stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.  
  
He smiled. "Good morning, Captain Valen—"  
  
"Why the hell are you continuing this war?" Her harsh words interupted him.  
  
He frowned in confusion. "What?"  
  
She took a step further into the room. "I asked why you're going to continue this stupid war."  
  
"Stupid war? Beka—"  
  
"Don't 'Beka' me, Dylan. I asked you a question."  
  
Dylan nearly laughed. "Beka, this war wasn't started by me. It was started by the Sabra-Jaguar, and they requested our help in fighting it. We signed a mutual defense pact with them which promised that we and our allies will help support each other in any armed conflicts. If we don't support the Sabra-Jaguar now, then we can forget about them ever helping us out if we're stuck in a jam. Besides, they'd probably back out of the Commonwealth, and you know as well as I do that they're the strongest player we have on our board."  
  
She was still glaring at him.  
  
Dylan sighed. Attempting humor, he said. "And what is everyone's preoccupation with the war all of a sudden? Tyr was in here just a few minutes ago complaining about it too. By the way, did you see him leave? He—"  
  
"I saw. He wished me luck, and I told him that if luck wished to be good to me, all it had to do was keep him away from me for the rest of my life."  
  
"Beka—"  
  
"I told you a million times, Dylan, don't 'Beka' me! About Tyr, I meant it what I said. I never want to see him again. Ever."  
  
"Be—" he caught himself just in time. "You have got to let go of this hatred for Tyr. He had to do what he had to do—"  
  
"Dylan, you're trying to change the topic. The topic was this damn war, not my personal life."  
  
Dylan sighed. She was being so damn difficult. "Fine. We go back to the topic. But, Beka, my decision still stands. I'm not backing out of this war."  
  
"Dylan, do you seriously think we stand a chance against the Dragans? Us and that pathetic little cavalry you call our allies?"  
  
"That 'pathetic little cavalry' has already faced the Dragans in numerous battles and come away in one piece and after taking a bite out of the Dragan fleet, might I add."  
  
Beka gave a bitter laugh. "Dylan, even Harper, the king of glorifying the crusades of the underdogs would say you don't have a chance in hell."  
  
Dylan was starting to feel angry now. Angry and frusterated. Angry because he was sick and tired of everybody's damn pessimism, and frusterated because Beka had to bring up Harper's name on a day when he had just started thinking he could go through the day without having to swallow tears of grief.  
  
"Beka, I don't care what Harper would have said, and what he wouldn't have said. Harper's dead." He spat.  
  
She reacted as though he had hit her across the face. Her mouth abruptly closed and the blood drained from her face. She stared at him, a stunned expression on her face.  
  
Abruptly, she turned around and ran from the room, leaving Dylan standing there behind his desk.  
  
Looking after Beka's retreating figure, Dylan slid his gaze onto his desk. On it lay the flexi with Colonel Yau's new defensive strategy suggestions which she had left him to examine the other day.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed it and hurled it across the room. 


	3. Chapter 3

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 3  
  
* * * * * (one month later) * * * * *  
  
Beka moodily stared into the glass which sat on the table in front of her. It was empty.  
  
Again.  
  
She reached for the open champagne bottle sitting in front of her, but a sudden purple hand reached forward and snatched it away from her.  
  
Beka turned and glared at Trance, who had discretly moved the bottle out of her reach, without taking her eyes off of Dylan and still successfully keeping that mildly interested expression on her face.  
  
Beka clenched her hand into a fist and was about to start punching the table.  
  
But that little voice in the back of her head, that nagging little voice of common sense quickly reminded her that punching a glass table would only irritate Rommie, put Dylan into a bad mood and upset Trance.  
  
She slowly unclenched her fist and gently laid it on the armrest of her chair.  
  
Moodily, she went back to staring around the room.  
  
Dylan was standing at the head of the table—he was always at the head of the table these days. It irritated Beka beyond belief. The damn guy always had to be in control of everything. Elsbett had been right about calling him controlling.—and beside him stood Colonel Yau, and that Perseid Commander, whose name Beka could never remember.  
  
What the hell was the chinhead's name again? She frowned, trying to remember. Rommie had told her his name a million times. What the hell was—oh, yeah, Tumak. General Tumak.  
  
Head of the something-or-other division of the Perseid fleet.  
  
Beka glanced over the other people sitting around her. Trance was sitting beside her, and Rommie was standing in the corner. Both of them had those expressions on their faces that plainly said that they were faking those interested looks and were bored beyond belief.  
  
Beka smiled.She could so tell.  
  
Well, it wasn't a wonder. Harper had that look on his face a million times during these diplomatic mumbo-jumbo meetings.  
  
Abruptly, the smile slid off of Beka's face. The image of the blond headed, grinning engineer floated up before her.  
  
That familiar pain started gnawing on her heart again. It was getting hard to breathe. Harper. Oh, God, Harper.  
  
Harper would never grin again, he would never sit beside her again and make her laugh. He'd never comfort her when she needed a friend. No. Harper was dead. Harper was—  
  
No, no, no, no, no. She would not start thinking about Harper now. She'd break down completely and embarrass Dylan, Rommie and Trance beyond belief. Not only that, but she'd make an idiot out of herself.  
  
No. She couldn't—wouldn't—think about Harper now. Not yet. The pain was too deep, the wound was too fresh.  
  
She pasted a small, interested smile onto her face. She forced herself to divert her thoughts from Harper and to pay attention to what Colonel Yau and Dylan were arguing about.  
  
Yes, pay attention to that. Come on, Valentine, get a grip.  
  
Colonel Yau was holding the flexi she had given to Dylan a few days ago in her hand.  
  
Dylan was frowning at her. Oh, oh, Beka thought with slight amusement. That frown could only mean one thing. The dear Colonel didn't agree with something Dylan was saying. Boy, would she be quick to change her mind by the time Dylan was through with her.  
  
"Colonel, I already told you, sending our entire fleet against them would be suicide."  
  
"And if we don't send our entire fleet, what is our other alternative? Send small, separate divisions? The Dragans would pick them off one by one. That would be suicide."  
  
"Colonel, I don't remember saying anything about separate divisions."  
  
Colonel Yau's frown deepened and she threw the flexi onto the table, and flipped her short, brown hair away from her face, a frusterated scowl on her face. Fish people were always so easily irritated.  
  
"Well, then, Captain Hunt, do enlighten us all by saying what you want to say."  
  
Dylan reached past her and pushed a button on the table. A holographic map appeared in front of them.  
  
Dylan pointed at one of the systems. Beka couldn't quite make out the name of it.The damn print in the hologram was too small. She leaned forward and squinted.  
  
Ferulia. The Ferulian systems. She raised an eyebrow. What in the world would Dylan want there?  
  
"Colonel, with your permission I will now enlighten the rest of you."  
  
She scowled at him. When normal people scowled it was bad enough, but with those extra ridges on her face, the Colonel's frown was enough to want to make someone crawl underneath the table. Seeing her enthusiasm, Dylan took that as permission and turned to the map again.  
  
"I agree that if we send in separate divisions, it would be suicide, but not if those divisions were reinforced."  
  
The Mobius Commander frowned. Beka nearly rolled her eyes. Commander John Maston was one of the dumbest people she had ever met. He couldn't fly a ship, he couldn't command a handful of fighters, hell he couldn't even understand what 'evasive manuvers' meant.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't entirely understand."  
  
Beka chuckled. Of course he didn't.  
  
Dylan smiled rather tightly at the Mobius Commander. Good. Looked like Beka wasn't the only one who thought he was the dumbest human to ever have walked on a starship.  
  
"Commander, let me rephrase it. If we send a handful of slipfighters into the Anduran system—" he pointed on the map at the system adjacent to Ferulia. Beka noticed Andura was only one slip jump away. "—then we can get the Dragans to pursue them. They'll probably think the fighters had gotten lost from the fleet and will follow them, probably convinced it'll be easy pickings. The fighters will jump through the stream to Ferulia, with the Dragan fleet following them. The Dragan fleet will come out of slipstream to find itself facing our entire fleet, which will be waiting for them."  
  
Beka had to admit it was pretty good. Looking at Colonel Yau's disappearing frown and spark of interest in her eyes, she could tell the Castalian Colonel also liked it.  
  
Now General Tumak had to speak up. He sat up, that typical paranoid frown on his face.  
  
"Uh, Captain Hunt, if I may add some input? I just can't help but think about what will happen if the fighters get shot down by the Dragans. Our entire plan will be ruined."  
  
Beka sighed. Typical Perseid paranoia.  
  
Dylan smiled rather tightly at him. "General, there is no need to worry. We'll have able pilots on all of the fighters. Besides, if we do lose the fighters then the Dragans won't follow them to Ferulia, and won't come face to face with us."  
  
The Colonel's frown was back. "And what happens with the rest of the fleet if the Dragans don't come?" she demanded.  
  
Dylan smiled sweetly. "We sit and have some tea."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Beka gripped the controls in her hands. She had never been so tense in her entire life. She forced herself to breathe in and out and tried to loosen her hold on the controls, but found her nervous hands nearly welded to them.  
  
Dylan was standing beside her, intently watching the viewscreen.  
  
Rommie was standing stiffly on the side, her eyes constantly roaming around, waiting for any sign of slipstream activity.  
  
The entire atmosphere in command was tense and eerily quiet.  
  
Beka forced herself to breath again. If she suffocated now, she wouldn't be able to pilot worth a throne when those damn fighters finally appeared.  
  
She stole a glance at the screen where the ship's symbol was displayed in the middle. Little green blips surrounded the ship on all sides except for the front. Beka smiled. General Tumak had begged Dylan to please make the Andromeda stand at the front of the pack and protect the rest of the fleet. Only he'd phrased it as claiming that his division, as well as all the other divisions would be a very secure back up, would anything go wrong with their front line offense. That front line offense would be the ship Beka was piloting.  
  
Beka shook her head. Typical Perseid paranoia. The General would have backed out of the battle, even the war itself, if Sinti didn't support it so strongly. But Tumak knew that at a single word from his superiors, he could pack up and high tail it home as fast as his legs could carry him. Until then, he was stuck here, hiding behind the most powerful warship in the known universe.  
  
Colonel Yau had vividly protested the idea. She had snorted with outrage at the General's plan and said that she agreed that the Andromeda was the most important asset of their entire fleet, but she icily pointed out that the ship was still a ship and could just as easily be blown up as the rest of the fleet.  
  
So, Dylan had positioned the Perseid fleet behind him, and placed the Castalian and Mobius divisions on either side of him. When Commander Maston had been asked what he had thought about the plan, he had stared at Dylan with wide eyes, then weakly muttered something about thinking that the plan was a 'very good military strategy'.  
  
Beka snorted. The man wouldn't know a good military strategy from a bad one if it bit him in the ass. He probably didn't even know what a military strategy was to begin with.  
  
Dylan had just waved his hand and said that of course the Commander agreed.  
  
Beka tried to ease the grip of her hands on the controls. If she kept so bunched up then she'd never be able to steer properly.  
  
Her main worries was not to ram into any part of their own fleet. Flying a Heavy Cruiser amid a sea of tiny fighters was like trying to wade through a pool of water without getting wet. It had happened only once before. Beka had done a quick 180 degrees flip and run over a Perseid fighter. General Tumak had right away gone spluttering to Sinti, complaining that their allies were trying to betray them and that they should right away back out of the war.  
  
The high command had laughed at him and told him to get back out there and fight.  
  
Beka bit her lip. Not usually one to worry about military matters, she found herself a little concerned over the size of their fleet. The Sabra- Jaguar weren't here. They were busy coming up behind the Dragans in Andura. The Andromeda and company would take care of the front of the Dragan fleet, Charlemagne and his darling wife would take care of the back.  
  
Even though their presence reassured Beka, she was still apprehensive over the fact that their fleet was so small.  
  
Oh, well. She was on the most powerful warship in the known worlds. She was gonna be okay.  
  
She took another breath and forced herself to blink and look away from the view screen.  
  
Any minute now, Rommie would tell them that the fighters had arrived. Any minute now, Rommie would tell them that the Dragans were here. Any minute now she'd see the slipstream portal in front of them open and throw out a hoard of Drago-Katzov ships.  
  
Any minute now…  
  
"Dylan! I'm sensing something." Rommie said, interupting Beka's thoughts.  
  
"Have the fighters left Andura?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. But I'm detecting a huge fleet of ships coming towards us."  
  
"The Dragans came out of slipstream?"  
  
"No." Rommie raised her eyes to her captain's face. "They just appeared behind us—"  
  
Beka's head snapped up.  
  
"Behind us?" Dylan cried.  
  
Rommie nodded. "They just left slipstream. 75 fighters in total, 5 destroyers. Dylan, they're firing."  
  
Seconds later, the Beka was thrown forward onto the control panel in front of her as the ship violently lurched under a volley of missiles.  
  
Beka glanced up at the viewscreen. A hoard of Dragan ships had appeared behind them and were already firing on their fleet. Beka swore as she saw many of the green blips representing their fleet blink out of existence.  
  
With a small shake she came back to reality. Unless she turned around and started firing, they'd disappear off that viewscreen as well.  
  
"Beka! Turn around, sharp 180! Rommie! Start firing!" Dylan yelled.  
  
Beka tore the controls around and the ship spun around, facing the fleet.  
  
She pushed the controls forward, dogding around the Perseid divisions which were still behind them.  
  
As Beka wove amongst them, trying to avoid as much of the fleet as well as the Dragans fire as possible, Beka saw the Perseid fleet zipping all around them, in obvious confusion. Some fighters were just hanging there, not moving.  
  
"Dylan, the Perseids aren't moving!" she yelled over at Dylan. She jerked the ship to the side as she saw another barrage of missiles come flying their way, but they still grazed them.  
  
"Rommie! Contact Tumak! Now!" Dylan yelled as the ship rocked back and forth from the continuous batter of missiles.  
  
Suddenly, General Tumak's terrified face filled the view screen.  
  
"Oh, Captain Hunt! I'm so glad to see you! It appears that something went wrong. The Dragans are all over the place, and—and—and, what should I do?" The terrified General whined.  
  
"Don't just stand there, General! You'll get yourself killed. Turn around and fire!" Dylan screamed at him. When the General stared at him with wide eyes, Dylan punched a panel in front of him. Another wave of missiles hit them and Beka was nearly thrown from her station, but her firm grip on the controls kept her steady. Sirens started whining all over the ship and Andromeda's voice cut through the noise surrounding them, telling them that there were several hull breaches and they were leaking anti-protons.  
  
"General! Turn around and fire! Now!" Dylan bellowed through the noise.  
  
Beka tore her eyes off the screen in front of her and took a look at the the number of green blips which were still surrounding them.  
  
Her eyes widened when she saw how little of them were left.  
  
But at least the remainders were still fighting. The Castalians were already ahead of them, zipping in and out from among the Dragans and the floating, broken remainders of their fleet.  
  
Beka smiled. At least Colonel Yau had some guts.  
  
Another volley of missiles hit them. This time a control panel beside Beka was torn from the floor and was flung across command, missing Dylan by inches.  
  
Sparks flew from the walls and the panels surrounding Beka. She squinted through the haze of sparks at Dylan.  
  
"Dylan!" she yelled through the noise.  
  
He turned around.  
  
"It's not looking good!" she yelled over to him.  
  
He nodded. "Rommie! Fire everything you've got! Torpedoes, missiles, hell, throw cargo out of the hatches if need be! Just fire!"  
  
Rommie gave him a calm nod.  
  
Beka stared at her, completely amazed at seeing her calm face amid this chaos. The sirens were blaring, anti-protons were leaking all over the place, their fleet was being blown to pieces and their ship was starting to crumble, and there she stood, completely unfazed.  
  
The only thing calm amid this sea of chaos.  
  
Another barrage of missiles hit them. This time, the controls were torn from Beka's hands as she felt herself being flung across the entire room. She crashed into a wall and fell to the floor.  
  
She tried to stand up when she realized the floor beneath her feet was shaking.  
  
Breathing hard, she looked up and stared through the sparks and the smoke which was now pouring from the walls and the control panels around the room.  
  
She stumbled through the smoke, trying to keep from falling as the ship violently shook.  
  
"Dylan!"  
  
She was surprised to feel him grab her arm.  
  
His face was terrified, covered in sweat and he was breathing hard. As she wiped a hand across her own forehead, she realized she must look the same.  
  
"We have to get out of here!" she yelled at him through the noise.  
  
Dylan nodded and slowly, they started stumbling through the smoke and sparks towards the door.  
  
When she passed by Rommie, who was still standing there, completely unfazed, Beka grabbed the android's arms and started pulling her to the door.  
  
Consoles started exploding behind them as Andromeda's voice carried through the sirens and the explosions, telling them that all systems had failed and that the situation was beyond critical.  
  
Beka coughed and covered her mouth with her hand as she squinted through the smoke. She ducked down, pulling Rommie and Dylan with her as a sparking wire was torn from the shaking ceiling.  
  
Crouching low, the three of them ran down the corridor, towards the hangar deck.  
  
As they passed hydroponics, Beka's eyes suddenly widened as she remembered Trance. She let go of Rommie's arm and pushed herself into the room, whose door was hanging half open.  
  
She stared through the haze of smoke and sparks as plants all around her started exploding as their oxygen tanks overloaded.  
  
"Trance!" she screamed.  
  
She edged her way further into the room. "Trance!"  
  
She strained to hear an answer, when an oxygen tank beside her blew up. Beka threw herself onto the ground and rolled out of the way.  
  
When she pushed herself up again, flailing her arms to keep herself balanced on the shaking floor, she felt a hand on her arm.  
  
She glanced down and saw a terrified, shaking Trance beside her.  
  
Beka grabbed her arm. "It's gonna be okay, Trance." She yelled to the shaken girl in front of her. Trance mutely nodded.  
  
As something else exploded behind them, Beka realized that the whole ship was going to come apart soon.  
  
They had to get out of here.  
  
She pulled Trance with her and ran out of hydroponics. Crouching close to the floor to keep out of the way of exploding walls and sparking wires, Dylan and Rommie came up to them and together they all ran towards the hangar deck.  
  
Beka still clutched Trance's hand as she ran, pulling her down with her when something exploded close to them or when something went flying past them.  
  
Finally, they reached the hanger deck. Rommie tried opening the doors for them, but they remained shut.  
  
Beka stared from her to the door, and then back at her.  
  
"Why can't you open the door?" she yelled.  
  
Rommie shook her head. "My main AI has been cut off from me." She said this as if this happened everyday.  
  
Beka forced herself to stop staring at her.  
  
Turning her attention back to the door, she pulled out her force lance and started shooting wildly at the door.  
  
Dylan pulled his out too and they worked feverishly to open the heavy metal door.  
  
They all ducked instinctively as something else close to them exploded. Trance pressed herself closer to Beka.  
  
Not taking her eyes off the door, Beka reached down and squeezed Trance's arm reassuringly.  
  
Finally, they managed to pull the door open.  
  
Dylan ran through first but then turned around and pulled Beka and Trance through.  
  
Beka took off running, trying to keep her balance on the shaking floor as she ran towards the Maru.  
  
She was just about to open the airlock, when she noticed that Rommie wasn't with them.  
  
Beka turned aroud, breathing hard, staring at the door of the hangar.  
  
Dylan stood there, screaming at Rommie to get over to the Maru.  
  
The android stood on the other side of the door, not moving.  
  
Beka saw Trance about to run towards her, when she grabbed her arm.  
  
"Trance! Get on the Maru! I'll take care of Rommie!" Beka pushed her towards the Maru. Trance mutely nodded and opened the airlock and disappeared inside.  
  
Satisfied that at least one member of her crew was safe, Beka ran towards Rommie and Dylan.  
  
"Rommie! I'm ordering you right now to get your ass through this door and onto the Maru! Now!" Dylan screamed at her.  
  
His ship's avatar just gave him a small smile. "No, Dylan. I can't."  
  
"What?"  
  
She continued smiling. "Dylan, I can't leave me here. I'm part of this ship. I can't just leave it behind."  
  
Dylan raised his hands into the air and was about to start threatening her that he would physically carry her onto the Maru if she didn't come, but Beka intervened.  
  
She put a firm hand onto Dylan's arm, forcing him to back off.  
  
She stepped in front of Rommie, trying to stay calm. That didn't work.  
  
"Rommie, what the hell is this shit about you not coming?" Beka screamed at her.  
  
Rommie gave her the same patient smile she had given Dylan.  
  
"Beka, this ship is me. This ship is about to explode. That means I have to go too."  
  
Beka shook her head. "Don't feed me that garbage! You're connected to the ship by a small portion in your brain. You don't need this ship to survive any more than I really need the Maru to survive. It's a nice thing to have, yeah, but you won't die without it!"  
  
Rommie didn't answer her, but just continued smiling at her.  
  
Beka's patience snapped. "Rommie! Why the hell are you doing this?" she demanded, trying to ignore the piece of the wall which had just been ripped off beside them and had flown across the room, hitting the Maru with a loud bang.  
  
"Beka, I made a promise. A promise which I can't keep. If I can't keep that promise, I'd rather not continue with my present existence."  
  
Beka stared at her, gasping for breath. "What promise?"  
  
Rommie smiled. "The promise I made to a close friend some time ago."  
  
Beka continued staring, suddenly starting to understand. "You really mean that? You'd sacrifice your life just because you couldn't keep a promise?"  
  
Rommie smiled and nodded.  
  
Beka was again struck by how calm she looked. Amid all this chaos, amid this the blaring of the siren, the shaking of the ship, the exploding walls and sparking wires and the smoke which poured from every corner of the room, Rommie stood there, calmly smiling at her.  
  
She looked to all the world like a single sane being in the middle of a universe gone mad.  
  
Like a shining star amid a dark, black universe.  
  
Beka continued staring at her. A lump started forming in her throat as she realized she was about to lose another one of her friends.  
  
She swallowed hard and nodded, tears starting to brim her eyes.  
  
"I understand, Rommie." She whispered. Rommie smiled at her.  
  
"I knew you would."  
  
Beka stepped towards her and suddenly crushed Rommie in a tight hug. Rommie felt tears starting to brim in her own eyes too as she hugged Beka one last time.  
  
Finally, they released each other and stood there, staring at each other, both knowing and understanding that they were doing this for a man they had both loved with all their hearts.  
  
Beka gave her a shaky smile.  
  
"Good bye, Rommie."  
  
Rommie nodded at her. "Good bye, Captain Beka Valentine."  
  
Slowly, Beka stepped back from her.  
  
Dylan was staring at both of them. He'd heard and understood every word they had said. At first, he was willing to start swearing at both of them, tell them both that they were being stupid and to physically carry them both onto the Maru, but by the end, he understood why Rommie had to do what she had to do.  
  
He stepped in front of her.  
  
"Any last orders, Captain?"  
  
Dylan smiled, painfully aware of the lump in his throat. "No. No orders, Rommie. You've done everything I have ever asked you to. Sometimes more." He took a deep breath. "I would order you to come with me, but I know better. It would kill you having to disobey the last order your captain ever gave you. I know why you want to do this, and although a part of me doesn't want to allow me to understand, I do."  
  
He leaned down and gently kissed her cheek.  
  
Rommie stared up at him. "Dylan, I love you." She said.  
  
Dylan smiled. "I know. I've known for a long time."  
  
She nodded. "Good."  
  
Dylan cleared throat. "Good bye, Andromeda Ascendent."  
  
Rommie smiled at the use of her full name.  
  
"Good bye, Captain Dylan Hunt."  
  
Slowly, she turned and without another word, calmly walked back into the shaking, crumbling ship.  
  
Dylan and Beka were staring after her, but when the floor beneath their feet started shaking harder, they both turned around and started running towards the Maru.  
  
Beka leaped on board and ran towards the cockpit. She flung herself into the chair and revved the engines as she heard Dylan closing the airlock.  
  
As she was quickly pulling on her seatbelt, she heard the doors of the hangar deck opening.  
  
She smiled. "Thank you, Rommie." She quickly pushed the control forward and shot through the open door into black space.  
  
She went hurling through space, dodging the floating remains of their fleet and the few Dragan missiles which were still whizzing past them.  
  
Only when she was sure she was far enough away to avoid being blasted to hell by the explosion which she knew was about to follow did she slow down and turn the ship around.  
  
Dylan and Trance quietly came up behind her.  
  
Before them, the Andromeda was slowly coming apart.  
  
Violently shaking, sparks were flying from her and spare parts dislodged themselves from her hull and went flying through space.  
  
Suddenly, a large rumbling carried through the dead space before them, and the entire ship exploded.  
  
The harsh light was so bright that Beka had to bring her hands up to her face to shield her eyes.  
  
When she lowered them again, she was astonished to the sight before her eyes.  
  
The Andromeda had disappeared.  
  
Pieces of metal and sparking torn wires floated around space, colliding with each other and crashing into the dead hulls of the shot down fighters which drifted around space.  
  
As Beka kept on staring at the sea of debris before her, watching the small pieces of disintegrating metal float through space, she suddenly noticed that metal looked black.  
  
Just like the rest of the chaos around her, just like the rest of the black space around her, the small pieces of metal floating past her were black.  
  
Beka blinked and realized that tears were pouring down her cheeks.  
  
She stared out at the sea of black debris.  
  
Now even the last star in this black universe had burned out. 


	4. Chapter 4

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Author's Note: Just wanted to take a quick second to thank you guys for all of your reviews. They mean the world to me. I was so worried that you guys wouldn't like this story! As soon as I saw how many of you guys are willing to stick by me through this, I got so excited that I went and wrote six more chapters. All in one go. I was up until three in the morning. My hands are killing me, my brain is jelly and my parents swear I have problems. Especially when I wanted to run over to my beta-reader (my younger sister) at three thirty and get her to read it.  
  
Yup, sometimes I really think I have problems. Anyway, the story's not quite done yet, I'm spending all day on it today and hopefully (Raven crosses her fingers) I'll get it done. However, (and this is the part you're all going to hate me for), I'm only going to post them a few chapters at a time. That way, the passing of time in the story is more effective for you, and time is an essential part in the story, as you'll see. Anyway, I'll be quiet now, and thanks again for the support!  
  
  
  
* * * * * (two weeks later) * * * * *  
  
Beka ran a hand through her hair as she stared at the holographic map which flickered inches away from her.  
  
Beside her, Colonel Yau was doing the same thing.  
  
Beka noticed that both of them were also scowling. Dylan noticed too.  
  
"Colonel, Beka, I know things aren't looking too good right now—."  
  
"Captain, things are not just looking bad, they're looking absolutely—" Colonel Yau tried thinking of a professional word to use. "Shitty." She finally burst out.  
  
Beka nodded. "Dylan, I'd hate to agree with her, but she's got my vote on this one."  
  
The Colonel barely glanced at Beka before turning back to Dylan.  
  
"Captain, we've been attacked by the Dragans twice times in the past three weeks. Both times we've barely been able to defend ourselves, and if it weren't for my forces and the Sabra Jaguar, we'd have been forced to surrender days ago. Our entire fleet has been cut in half at nearly every battle, not to say that we've lost our most important military asset when your ship was blown out of the sky."  
  
Beka briefly closed her eyes as painful memories of Rommie rose up before her. She suddenly remembered how she had looked, standing so calmly amid the smoke and explosions and the chaos before the entire ship exploded.  
  
Beka firmly shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on the situation at hand.  
  
Wallowing in painful memories was no way to fight a war.  
  
Dylan sighed. "Look, Colonel. I know that things aren't looking too good right now—."  
  
"We've established that." Colonel Yau interupted icily.  
  
It was times like these that Beka couldn't stand the Colonel. True, she had guts and a brain, both of which being characterstics which both of their other leaders lacked immensely, but her Castalian fish habits were so damn irritating.  
  
Always so icy cold and distant. No matter what happened.  
  
Beka shook herself again when she found herself wandering in her thoughts. She had to stop that. Any second now she'd probably be thinking about Har—  
  
Okay, stop right there, Beka firmly interupted her thoughts. She wasn't even going to start going in that direction.  
  
The pain was still too deep, the wound was still too fresh.  
  
She focused her attention on Dylan again.  
  
"Colonel, we've got enough of our fleet left to continue fighting. Charlemagne contacted me just this morning and told me that the building of their fleet had finally finished. They'll be sending reinforcements in a couple of days. Plus, it's true that the Dragans have severly injured our fleet, but we haven't exactly left them spotless either. I'd say our forces are still about the same."  
  
Beka mulled it over, but after some quick math she figured out he was probably right.  
  
"Yeah, I guess." She sighed.  
  
Colonel Yau scowled.  
  
Beka nearly glared at her but stopped herself in time. She was starting to get a headache. Fixing fish habits and reprimanding Castalian Colonel's was something that required a clear head.  
  
Dylan nodded. "So, we're all in agreement that we keep on fighting?"  
  
Beka resignly nodded and the Colonel continued scowling.  
  
Dylan smiled. "Good."  
  
Beka slowly fastened her seatbelt and revved up the engines.  
  
Somewhere close by, a small Dragan fleet had launched a surprise attack on a small Perseid cluster of fighters.  
  
Needless to say, the fighters had all scattered but the Dragans had pursued them and were still on their ass.  
  
General Tumak had contacted them, begging for help.  
  
She pushed the controls forward and the Maru shot through space, with a long line of Castalian fighters trailing behind them.  
  
Beka glanced up at Dylan who was standing beside her.  
  
"Dylan, you know as well as I do that we don't have an ice cube's chance in hell in this war." She said quietly.  
  
Dylan sighed but refused to look at her.  
  
By the tight set in his jaws Beka knew he wouldn't give her an answer.  
  
Inwardly she shook her head and sighed.  
  
Oh well, if they were going down, they might as well go down in a blaze of lights and fire.  
  
A little voice in the back of her head commented casually that that was something Harper would say.  
  
She gritted her teeth, blinked hard and forced those thoughts out of her head.  
  
She pushed the controls forward, forcing her old ship to go even faster.  
  
Perseids, here we come.  
  
Beka swore as she heard a ship being attached to her ship. She quickly stopped the engines, ripped off her seatbelt and leapt out of her seat.  
  
Trance and Dylan were already running down the corridor, guns in their hands.  
  
Beka pulled out her force lance as she ran.  
  
She never reached the airlock.  
  
A foot shot out from nowhere and she tripped over it, crashing head first onto the floor.  
  
She grimaced in pain as she felt her head smack into the hard metal of the floor.  
  
Instinctively, she reached for her gun. Finding it, she fumbled with it for a second before putting her finger on the trigger.  
  
Twisting around on the floor, she pointed her gun at her attacker and started wildly firing, not even sure where he or she was.  
  
When she heard a grunt of pain and the sound of a heavy body falling onto the metal floor, she slowly turned herself around and pushed herself off the floor.  
  
Sprawled out behind her, a bullet hole in his chest and his gun lying a few feet from him was a Nietzschean.  
  
Beka quickly glanced him over.  
  
From his hair cut and uniform, she knew he was a Dragan.  
  
Why would a Dragan be on her ship—? Oh, my God, the airlock!  
  
Swearing under her breath, she clutched her gun and started running towards the back of the ship.  
  
She flew over the doorway steps and some cables lying on the ground. Just before she reached the last corner, she ran smack into Trance.  
  
"Oh, Beka!" The girl was nearly hysterical and completely beside herself. Breathing hard and shooting fearful glances over her shoulder, Trance looked absolutely terrified.  
  
Beka swore under her breath and firmly shook her.  
  
"Trance! Get a hold of yourself! Where's Dylan? Where did the Dragans go? And where in the name of the Empress is your gun? I told you a million times, Trance, to always carry the damn thing with you! Do you never—"  
  
"Beka, they took Dylan." Her terrified voice interupted Beka's ranting.  
  
The words died on Beka's lips as she suddenly lost her capability for speech.  
  
She blinked at Trance, not wanting to understand or accept what Trance had just told her. But from long years of learning it the hard way, Beka knew that shoving crappy things away from you only made them hit you harder when you finally met them.  
  
Abruptly, she forced her shocked mind to concentrate.  
  
Okay, first things first, they had to get the Dragans off the ship.  
  
Beka shook Trance again after seeing that the girl was still glancing fearfully over her shoulder.  
  
"Trance, concentrate. Stay with me here, okay?"  
  
Trance nodded, swallowed a few times, blinked, and then looked up at Beka. Once again, her face was completely straight, a stubborn set in her jaw and that glint of fierce loyalty in her eyes.  
  
She was back to herself.  
  
"Okay, did all the Dragans leave?"  
  
"Yes. As soon as they grabbed Dylan, took his gun and pulled him through airlock to their ship, they all left. Although they were mumbling amongst themselves over where Darian or somebody was. They couldn't find him. Do you think he's still—"  
  
Beka waved a dismissive hand in the air. "He's taken care of." She answered curtly, remembering the Nietzschean who had tripped her in the corridor. She gritted her teeth.  
  
If that stupid son of a bitch hadn't tripped her, she'd have been able to stop them from taking Dylan.  
  
She glared at the walls around her.  
  
Well, if they took Dylan, then she and Trance would just have to go and get him back.  
  
Not letting go of Trance's arm, Beka marched towards the cockpit. On the way, Trance jumped to the side with a jerk and nearly shrieked when she saw Darian's body lying sprawled out across the floor.  
  
Beka glared down at the body and nearly spat on it as she passed by.  
  
Trance tore her eyes off the dead Nietzschean with difficulty. She felt the fear starting to grip her again. She swallowed hard, blinked and forced herself to get a hold of herself. Beka needed her to concentrate. Okay, so she'll concentrate.  
  
"Uhm, Beka? Where are we going?"  
  
Beka continued marching towards the cockpit, a firm, but gentle, grip on her arm.  
  
"Trance, I've lost two crewmembers in the past six months. There is no way in hell I'm going to lose another one."  
  
"You mean we're going to find Dylan?"  
  
Beka threw herself into the piloting chair, strapped herself in and revved the engines. Tearing the controls around, she jerked the ship around and shot through space.  
  
"You bet." She replied through clenched teeth, glaring through space.  
  
They'd already taken Harper and Rommie away from her. She'd be damned if they were going to take Dylan too.  
  
As she kept on muttering this over and over again in her mind and pushing the control further and further, ignoring the reluctant groans of her ship, it never occurred to her that she didn't even know who they exactly were.  
  
Beka and Trance marched down the long corridor of the Dragan headquarters, in front of them two armed guards, and behind them two others.  
  
The corridor was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the thumping of boot soles connecting with the marble floors.  
  
The Dragans marched with their strolling, casual strides, taking enormous steps but yet seeming to lumber down the hallway.  
  
Beka was easily keeping up with them with her habitual long military strides which she had inherited from her father and often practiced when keeping up with her longer legged brother or father.  
  
Trance was nearly running to keep up with all of them, her shorter legs and shorter stride being no match for Beka's and the Nietzscheans'.  
  
Glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, Beka slowed down a tad, forcing the Dragans behind them to also slow down.  
  
None of them said a word as they kept on going down the long corridor. Beka's arm brushed past her thighs where her force lance usually hung.  
  
She grimaced when she felt a bare spot where her lance and gun should have been.  
  
The guards at the front of the headquarters had right away demanded all of their weapons from them. Beka had at first toyed with the idea of just shooting them all and running through the door, but she quickly figured out that there were probably a lot more of them in the building and that she'd have more of a chance at talking with Admiral Cuatemoc if she started out in their good books.  
  
When the Maru had at first approached Gehena, where the Admiral had set up their temporary headquarters, Dragan fighters had surrounded them and threatened to start shooting, but Beka had quickly contacted them.  
  
She said that she wished to speak with Admiral Cuatemoc. She hadn't said about what, and when the Nietzschean she was speaking with retorted that the Admiral only spoke with the enemy when discussing the latters surrender, Beka got an idea.  
  
She had right away put on a very dejected face and stammered out that she wanted to speak to the Admiral about the terms of their peace treaty. The Nietzschean had raised an eyebrow and demanded to know what she was talking about.  
  
Giving a great sigh and lowering her eye lids and playing the perfect defeatist, Beka had slowly admitted that without the Andromeda and without the Dylan's leadership, the allies had no chance and had asked Beka to request an armistice from the Dragans.  
  
The Nietzschean had stared at her long and hard before coming to the conclusion that she wasn't lying and told her to go ahead and land.  
  
Beka had nearly stuck her tongue out at him and hissed 'sucker' at him, but wanted to take no chances. You never knew where those Nietzs kept those hidden cameras.  
  
And now, striding down the corridor with Trance, Beka was trying hard to keep from grinning. She had totally suckered them. She and Trance both.  
  
Trance had been great. Although she had at first put up a fuss at the prospect of lying to such important individuals, Beka had hammered it into her head that there was no chance in hell that the Dragans would let them see Dylan unless they would get something out of it. Trance had right away agreed to go along with it.  
  
Beka smoothered a grin as she remembered Trance's little input when the guards had demanded their weapons. Beka had at first started to refuse, but Trance had just sighed and handed her gun over. Glancing up at Beka, Trance gave her a sad and depressed look.  
  
"Oh, Beka, what's the use? Give them your gun. We won't need them anymore anyway." She sighed, her eyes trailing down to the floor. "We won't be doing anymore fighting from now on." She had quietly added, her voice dripping with just the right amount of depressed defeatism.  
  
Beka had nearly hugged her.  
  
For the millionth time in her life, Beka thanked the Divine for giving her the crew she had. Although she had lost more than half of them, the ones which she still had with her never failed to amaze her.  
  
The Nietzscheans striding in front of her abruptly halted and pushed open a door. Standing aside, they roughly motioned for Beka and Trance to enter.  
  
Putting dejected and sad looks on their faces, they passed by the guards as if they were on their way to a funeral.  
  
As she entered the room, Beka found herself in a small room, with a large desk in the center infront of which sat two comfortable looking chairs.  
  
Beka glanced around, noticing that there were expensive looking pictures and statues all over the place. The shelf hanging behind the desk was filled with large, leather bound books which she couldn't even start guessing the worth of.  
  
Well, even though Cuatemoc had only been in these headquarters for a few days, he had already made it look like he had lived in them his entire life.  
  
Trying to look inconspicuous as she glanced around, Beka also noticed a blinking red light in the top corner of the room. Security camera. She wasn't surprised.  
  
Directly below the camera stood a tall, black uniformed guard, whose clone was standing in the other corner.  
  
Sitting between the two guards and casually reclining in an overstuffed chair was Admiral Cuatemoc.  
  
Beka quickly glanced over him. The curly grey hair on the top of his large head hadn't grown any sparser since the last time she had seen him.  
  
She moved her eyes down and stared into his cold, grey eyes, which were fixed on her own face.  
  
Beka held her chin up a little higher, trying to play the part of the prideful loser.  
  
A tiny smile flickered across his face.  
  
"It's a pleasure to see you, Miss Valentine." He said, lightly resting his elbows on his desk.  
  
Beka glared at him. "I wish I could say the pleasure was mutual."  
  
Trance shifted uncomfortably beside her but didn't say anything.  
  
Another little smile crossed his face. He motioned for them to sit down and they both went to the overstuffed chairs in front of his desk and perched on them uncomfortably.  
  
Cuatemoc studied Beka's face for a few moments, before motioning for his guards to leave. Without a word, they quietly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind them.  
  
He reached down and opened a drawer on his desk. Pulling out a little remote control, he pointed it up at the blinking security camera and pressed a small green button.  
  
Beka glanced up at the camera and saw the light slowly fade out and a shutter close over the lens of the camera.  
  
She raised an eyebrow and stared at him, no longer expending all of her energy into appearing depressed and resigned.  
  
Nietzscheans never turned off their cameras. They never sent their guards away. Never.  
  
Cuatemoc smiled at the confusion in her eyes.  
  
"Miss Valentine, although you might think of some members of my pride as being fools, you will find that that is not the case with me. Even your Captain Hunt has been finding out in the past few days that I'm not as dense, or as easily deceived as some others who you have run into on past occasions."  
  
Beka continued staring at him, careful not to let her confusion show on her face.  
  
What the hell was he talking about?  
  
"Miss Valentine, not only am I not a fool, but I know that you aren't one either. Therefore, I'll cut to the chase, since we're both very busy people." He lightly rested his chin on his clasped hands. "I know as well as you and your collegue here do that you aren't here to negotiate your surrender or beg me for an armistice. I know you're here to see if you can worm your way into my good graces so I'll release your Captain Hunt."  
  
Beka saw Trance's mouth drop open slightly, but the girl quickly recovered from her shock and snapped her mouth shut and dropped her gaze to the floor.  
  
Beka felt a sudden rush of fear flood through her as she heard the Admiral so casually ripping their plan to pieces.  
  
She felt scared, yes, but not surprised. She raised her head and stared at the Admiral, all signs of depression and resignation gone from her eyes.  
  
He smiled. "There we go, finally there is nothing but honesty shining within us both. Hatred too, but honesty too. Nothing better than having enemies be honest with each other."  
  
She forced a smile on her face, but that quickly fizzled.  
  
"Admiral, if you know why I'm here then I prefer we don't waste each other's time and start discussing why I came here." She bit her lip for a moment, trying to think of an effective way to ask for Dylan's return, but she couldn't find one. "I'm here to ask for the return of Dylan Hunt."  
  
Cuatemoc kept on smiling. "Miss Valentine, might I remind you that we are at war here? Captain Hunt is my rightful prisoner of war. During war times, prisoners are only released if a person in my position chooses to release them, which at the moment I don't. Even if we weren't at war, I'm afraid that Captain Hunt's return would be impossible. Although troops of the enemy are often returned after a war has ended, those troops leaders aren't."  
  
Beka blinked, not really having absorbed what he had said. She was trying to think up persuasive arguments in her head that might convince the Admiral to release Dylan. She decided to start with the easy shots.  
  
"Admiral, after you've wrung every piece of information from Dylan, he won't be of any more use to you."  
  
He smiled at her. "On the contrary, Miss Valentine. Enemy leaders are always remarkable tools with which I can bend the wills of my enemies to match mine." He glanced up at her, his cold eyes on her. "Besides, your little captain is proving to be much more stubborn than we thought. There is still a great deal of information we haven't been able to coax out of him." He grinned. "But don't worry, we've been trying very hard."  
  
Beka clenched her jaw and felt a raw rage fill her. "Don't you dare—"  
  
He held up a hand. "Your dire little threats can't faze me, Miss Valentine. What I wish to do with my prisoners is entirely up to me."  
  
She glared at him. "He's a high ranking military officer. He has certain rights—"  
  
"Rights which don't count for anything here. I make the rules, Miss Valentine. Try to remember that."  
  
She opened her mouth to unleash her pent up fury on him, but he quickly held up his hand again to silence her.  
  
"Besides, whether we treat your captain according to his rights or not won't matter in a few days. A week from today he'll be executed anyway."  
  
All of Beka's fury evaporated and she felt as if somebody had punched her in the stomach. Her eyes widened and a stunned shock filled her. They were going to execute Dylan? They were going to kill him?  
  
The Admiral continued talking as if he didn't notice her stunned reaction. "I would tell you that I could give you his body after we're done with it, but I promised it to the High Council on Enga's Redoubt as a belated New Years present." He shrugged almost apologetically.  
  
Beka suddenly snapped out of her shock. She rose from the chair, glaring at him. If looks alone could kill, the Admiral would have fallen over dead right in front of her.  
  
She crossed her arms across her chest and pulled herself up to her full height.  
  
"You will not kill him." She said, her voice completely flat.  
  
Cuatemoc raised an eyebrow. "Miss Valentine, I don't think you heard me the last time I said that you should remember that I make the rules here. If I say that Captain Hunt will be executed, then he will be executed."  
  
She glared. "You just want him out of the way because you know that you and that pathetic fleet of yours will lose the war if he's with us. You know as well as I do that none of your high ranking military idiots will ever have Dylan's brilliant military strategies."  
  
His smile slid off his face and he stared at Beka, his eyes going even cooler. "Miss Valentine, I would watch my mouth around these headquarters if I were you."  
  
"Why? Scared that the rest of your pathetic little cavalry will turn off their engines and stop fighting if you release Dylan? Huh?" she realized she was yelling but she didn't care. There was no way in hell she was going to stand by and lose another one of her friends.  
  
Cuatemoc regarded her coldly. "You will leave these headquarters immediately, Miss Valentine, and in a week you may return to watch your captain's head being blown to pieces. Maybe, if you leave nice and quietly and I don't hear a sound from you in the next week, then I'll let you see him before I take his neck between my hands and break it into fine powder. Understood?" he snarled.  
  
Beka was having problems breathing, the rage inside of her was so strong that it was digging into her guts, nearly making her cry out.  
  
Glaring at him, she spun around on her heels and marched out of the office, ripping the door open and nearly ramming into the guards outside.  
  
She marched past them, her long strides echoeing down the corridor as she ignored the cries of the guards behind her telling her to wait and that she must be escorted down these halls.  
  
The only sounds she could hear was the mad pounding of her blood in her ears and the rage which was engulfing her.  
  
She didn't slow down until she reached the door of the headquarters. Turning to the guards by the door, she held out a shaking hand and spat that she wanted her weapons back. Although they had raised their eyebrows at her and stared at her, after she had snarled that she'd snap both of their necks in the next ten seconds, they were quick to hand over her lance and her and Trance's guns.  
  
Holstering them, Beka marched past them and continued at that mad, furious pace until she had reached her ship.  
  
Only when she had opened the airlock, only when she had jumped inside and slammed it shut behind her and Trance, only when the sudden rage flooded out of her and was replaced by a feeling of despair, only then did she crumble and slide down the wall onto the floor.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears she knew would come. She clenched her hand into a fist and started hammering on the wall of her ship.  
  
Trance knelt behind her, lightly stroking her back.  
  
"It's gonna be okay, Beka." She softly said to Beka.  
  
Beka turned to her and stared at the purple girl, who seemed completely unfazed after having heard that Dylan would be executed in just a few days, and who was staring at Beka with concern in her eyes, not for Dylan and not for herself, but for Beka.  
  
Beka stared at her. "Trance, you can see the future, can't you?" she asked quietly.  
  
Trance's gaze briefly slid onto the floor and she lightly shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes I can."  
  
Beka took a long, shaking breath and briefly closed her eyes. "Okay, then you can tell me what the hell we're supposed to do." She looked up at Trance, her eyes filled with pain. "Trance, I'll be honest. I can't do this again. I can't lose another one. You understand? There has to be something we can do, somewhere we can go, someone we can talk to." She swallowed hard, tears starting to brim her eyes. "Trance, what are we supposed to do?"  
  
Trance looked away from her for a minute, quietly thinking. Finally, she raised her head and looked at Beka.  
  
"Beka, I think I know who we can go to." She gave her boss a gentle smile. "I don't know if it'll work, but we can give it a shot. I can't really see a perfect possible future in this, but I can see one where we might have a chance, that is, if we do everything right." She paused for a moment and lightly squeezed Beka's shoulder. "Beka, how fast do you think you can reach the Sabra-Jaguar homeworld?"  
  
Beka had never flown so fast in her entire life. Right after contacting the Sabra-Jaguar fleet, Beka had demanded to speak with Charlemagne. The latter had been in the middle of having tea and a massage, but he interupted them both to speak with her. He had given her a wide smile and greeted her happily upon seeing her, telling her it was great to see her again.  
  
Beka abruptly cut him off and explained their current situation.  
  
Immediately, the smile slid off his face and concern flared up in his eyes. He had glanced up at her, his brows creased in concentration. Finally, he shook his head, rather dejectedly.  
  
"I wish I had an answer for you, but I'm afraid I don't. If we weren't in the middle of a bloody war and being blown to pieces everyday, I would personally dispatch my entire fleet to Gehena and have them harass the planet until they return Dylan, but it's quite obvious that I can't spare my troops at the moment." He glanced up at Beka. "But I think you know that."  
  
Beka nodded. "Archduke Bolivar, I—"  
  
He waved a hand at her. "Call me Charlemagne. Much easier for the tongue, and besides, we're fighting a war here. I think being informal is a must."  
  
Beka gave him a brief smile, pretending to give a damn about what was informal for him and what wasn't. Inwardly she had to restrain herself from yelling at him that it didn't matter what the hell she called him when Dylan's life was hanging on the line.  
  
Charlemagne's smile wavered when he saw the glare on her face and the phony smile which she had forced her lips to form. He frowned. He didn't remember the blond first officer being so, well, bitter in a way. He remembered her being very confident and headstrong, but not so bitter. He found himself wondering what else had happened to her since he had last seen her.  
  
But, seeing the strained smile and the coldness in her eyes, he decided that he would postpone asking her that.  
  
Instead, he attempted to change the topic. "So, you have a plan, Miss Valentine?"  
  
She nodded, the smile immediately gone. He was nearly glad to see it go. That phoney politeness always rubbed him the wrong way. Especially when it came from people who used to be genuinly polite.  
  
"It's a piece of crap, really, but it's all I can think of. And it requires your wife."  
  
He nodded. "I suspected as much." He gave her a smile. "Well, you're welcome to pay her a visit. She's sitting at home with Alaric." His smile widened. "That's our boy. You haven't seen him yet, have you?"  
  
Beka blinked at him. Dylan's life was hanging by a thread here and he was talking about his children? Her patience snapped.  
  
"Archduke Bolivar—Charlemagne—, truth be told, I don't care about your son right now. Right now, all I care about is Dylan and his execution. I need to see your wife not to have a long talk about child rearing skills, but about preventing a man's death. Besides, I'm really not in the best mood these days, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't change the topic and tell me if I can go see your wife or not." She snapped. "And if you have nothing else to say to me, then please go back to your massage and your tea and let me do things my own way."  
  
Charlemagne was momentarily stunned by her sharp outburst. He felt as if he was speaking to someone he had never met before in his life. He couldn't help but wish that the glaring, impatient person he was speaking to was just a false imitation of Beka Valentine. Again he felt himself wondering what on earth had happened to make her so bitter.  
  
He gave her a gentle smile, pretending to be completely unfazed by her harsh words. Beka didn't notice. She was impatiently drumming her fingers on her armrest and trying to quell the thoughts of blowing the Archduke's fighter to pieces if he tried to change the topic one more time.  
  
"Beka Valentine, of course you may go see my wife. I wish you a safe journey and hope that Elsbett can help you, or rather, help Dylan, in any sort of way. You understand that I would willingly exchange myself for him, but I doubt that the Drago-Katzov would like that—"  
  
"No, I don't think they'd like that either. If they would, then you'd be the one being executed next week, and not Dylan." She interupted him harshly.  
  
Charlemange struggled to keep a smile on his face. "Have a safe journey, Beka." He said quietly, using her first name by itself for the first time.  
  
Beka didn't notice. She gave him a nod.  
  
"Thank you, Charlemagne." Beka said. It sounded like the first genuine thing she had said during the entire conversation.  
  
Reaching over, she cut her connections with his fighter. Pulling her seatbelt on, she started punching in the coordinates for the Sabra-Jaguar homeworld.  
  
"Trance?" she called over her shoulder. "Hang on tight. I'm aiming on getting there by tonight, and that's seven solid jumps right after the other."  
  
Gripping the controls and looking out of her windshield, Beka pushed the controls forward, shooting her ship through space.  
  
She dodged around the few fighters which were clustered around them and quickly reached a slipstream portal.  
  
Leaning back, she shoved the controls forward and got yanked into the stream. Yanking the controls around and keeping her eyes glued to the metallic chains of electricity which flickered around her, she found herself quietly praying that her plan would work.  
  
Beka impatiently sat on an overstuffed chair in a lavishly decorated livingroom. She glanced around her, taking in the expensive furniture, statues, paintings and the carpets on which her dusty shoes stood. Being the alpha male and female of a pride must mean that they get more than half of the money of the entire pride, Beka thought as she stared around herself.  
  
Beside her was an enormous window, outside of which was a large veranda complete with a large assortment of plants and flowers which would have made Trance green with envy, lawnchairs and a table, and a sparkling fountain in the middle.  
  
Beka couldn't remember the last time she had been in such an expensive house.  
  
She shrugged. It really didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now. Nothing except for saving Dylan's life. She started drumming on the armrests, before realizing that she might scratch the expensive wood. Clenching her jaw, she stopped drumming and prayed that Elsbett would hurry up and get here before she went insane.  
  
She wished Trance were here. Trance would keep her sane. But Trance had always been terrified of Elsbett and had begged Beka not to make her come. She especially was in no mood for being ordered around and being called a purple monkey. Besides, she said she wasn't that good at political stuff anyway and she thought Beka would have an easier time if she weren't there.  
  
Beka gritted her teeth. Well, if Trance would have come with her, she would at least have made this boredom easier for her. After another couple of minutes of staring around the room and trying not to get the carpet beneath her feet dirty, Beka waiting was ended when Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar swept into the room.  
  
Beka quickly glanced over her. She noticed that, despite having given birth just a few months ago, she had regained her figure almost immediately.  
  
Her curly black hair was flowing over her shoulders and diamond covered strands were woven into the curls. She was wearing her usual golden colored top and long pants, both of which were rimmed with rhinestones. On her throat glittered a large diamond and ruby necklace. Beka's eyes involuntarily widened. That thing must have cost a fortune.  
  
Elsebett smiled when she saw her staring. "Charlemagne gave it to me when Alaric was born." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and elegantly sat down on a chair facing Beka. She signalled for one of her slaves to bring them something to drink. She laughed. "I thought bearing children would be nothing more than a long and horrid ordeal filled with pain and annoyance. But if Charlemagne intends to give me more presents for my troubles, I'll gladly do it over again a few more times."  
  
Beka actually found a small smile forming on her face. Elsbett noticed. She also noticed that the smile disappeared as soon as it had come and was replaced but an impassive, cold face. She had stood outside the room and spent a few minutes looking at Beka sitting impatiently on the chair.  
  
Right away, she had noticed the frown of impatience and the bitter coldness in her eyes. She didn't remember seeing those there before.  
  
"So, Beka Valentine, although it's always a pleasure seeing the woman whose straying lover I had shared, I doubt that you came all the way out here to discuss child bearing or stare at my jewelry." She cocked her head to the side, waiting for Beka to say something. She was waiting for the usual biting comment to come. The pitiful excuse that the human woman always blubbered about her and Dylan being nothing more than friends.  
  
When her comment was greeted by a tense silence, she frowned and leaned forward. The woman sitting in front of her was definitely not the same one she had walked down the Andromeda's corridors with a few months ago.  
  
"Since you are obviously not willing to engage in pleasant conversation, you might as well hurry up and say what you came here to say. I'm a busy person and I don't have all day. Unlike you, I have more productive things to do than fly around the universe and sleep with my lover."  
  
Beka glared at her. Dylan was going to die in a few days and the woman was still making stupid jokes about the two of them being romantically involved.  
  
Her patience once again snapped. "For the last time, Dylan is not, was never and will never be my lover. I'd really appreciate it if you got that through your head once and for all."  
  
Elsbett raised an eyebrow. What in the world had happened to the headstrong, confident woman she had seen only a few months ago? Where in the world had this bitter, glaring woman come from?  
  
The slave came hustling in, holding a tray of champagne flutes. Elsbett took one and took a slow sip. Beka didn't take a glass and when the slave held the tray closer, Beka waved her away with an irritated hand.  
  
Elsbett took another sip.  
  
"From the way you're behaving, Beka Valentine, I get the impression that life on the good ship Andromeda is not as I left it."  
  
Her comment was met with a bitter glare. She decided to dig deeper.  
  
"How is the good ship, by the way? I haven't had the pleasure of seeing it in a few months."  
  
Beka continued glaring. "The ship's gone. It was blown up by Dragan destroyers a few weeks ago." She answered brusquely.  
  
Elsbett nearly choked on her mouthful of champagne. A look of surprise crossed her face.  
  
"Really? My husband hadn't told me."  
  
Beka didn't say anything.  
  
"How are the rest of your collegues?"  
  
Beka bit her lip. "That's none of your business." She said quietly. Inwardly she was begging Elsbett not to make her say anything. She could talk about Trance and Rev Bem and Tyr just fine. But then she'd have to talk about Dylan. And Rommie. She briefly closed her eyes as the familiar pain started clutching her. And Harper.  
  
Elsbett raised an eyebrow. "Beka Valentine, we are allies in a war. The emotional well being of my allies is always my business."  
  
Beka swallowed hard. She knew she couldn't get out of this one. Fine, she'd just say it and then quickly steer the conversation away. She took a deep breath.  
  
"Rev Bem left for a Wayist sanctuary, Trance is still with me, Tyr left us a few weeks ago, Rommie died when the ship blew up and—" her voice caught before she could say his name. She quickly swallowed and forced herself to just say it and not think about it. "And Harper's dead too."  
  
Outwardly, the news seemed to have no effect on the Nietzschean woman sitting in front of her. But inwardly, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the other woman. She hadn't known all of the crew as well as she had known Tyr, Dylan and Beka, but she knew how much Dylan and Beka cared about them. Although she had personally never felt anything but disdain and disgust for that purple monkey, the magog and that pitiful human from earth, she still felt herself feeling sorry for Beka.  
  
Now she could understand the bitterness and the coldness. She had lost nearly everyone she had ever cared about. Although she would never admit to putting herself on the same emotional level as a human, she knew that she would probably feel the same way if she lost Charlemagne or Alaric.  
  
Suddenly, she realized that Beka hadn't mentioned Dylan.  
  
"What about Dylan? I persume the good captain is well?"  
  
Beka continued staring at her coldly. Elsbett found her gaze rather unsettling.  
  
"Dylan's been captured by the Dragans. They're going to execute him next week."  
  
That news really struck her. She forced herself not to show any signs of shock or concern on her face, but inwardly, her stomache had turned to ice.  
  
In the years that she had known Dylan, she had come to take it for granted that he would always evade trouble and take care of himself easily. For the first time, she realized that he hadn't succeeded.  
  
She took another sip of her champagne. She had trouble swallowing it.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"It's what Cuatemoc himself told me and, although most other members of his pride tend to lie a lot, he doesn't."  
  
Elsbett's respect for Beka suddenly rose a notch. "You went to see my brother-in-law in the middle of a war in which you are fighting against him?"  
  
She continued gazing at her coldly. "I don't know about you, but if one of my closest friends and crewmembers is captured by the enemy, I don't just sit by and do nothing."  
  
Elsbett smiled. The woman had guts for sure. Not only was she a superb pilot, but she had guts which could rival those of a Nietzscheans. It was only too bad that she had been this badly broken.  
  
"I take it that your meeting with him did not have a positive outcome."  
  
"If it had, would I be here now?"  
  
Elsbett smiled. "And you thought that I could help you somehow."  
  
"I wouldn't have come here otherwise."  
  
Elsbett slowly put down her empty champagne flute on a nearby table and leaned back, pretending to be in deep thought.  
  
As soon as she had heard the word 'executed' come out of Beka's mouth, she knew that Dylan's case was hopeless. Especially considering the fact that this was Cuatemoc they were talking about. With any other Dragan there might have been a chance for bribery or blackmail working, but not with the darling Admiral. She bit her lip. She knew that Dylan's fate was completely irreversible, and no matter what she or anybody else did, his fate would remain sealed. She toyed with the idea of going to Beatricia and asking her sister-in-law for help, but knew that the timid little hen wouldn't be able to do anything further than comment to Cuatemoc that it wasn't very nice to kill people. No, she was a hopeless case.  
  
She glanced up at Beka. There was a small hint of hope in her eyes. Elsbett nearly felt bad having to crush her hope, seeing how she hadn't had the easiest of times in the past few months, but Elsbett also knew that giving her false hope would make her fall harder in the end.  
  
"Beka, I really hope you didn't expect me to help you in any sort of way. There is nothing I can do. If we were talking about any other pride, or any other Dragan, then we might have a chance at saving Dylan's life using bribery or blackmail, but neither of these two would work with my darling brother-in-law. He's renouned for keeping his word and if he says he'll execute Dylan, then he'll execute Dylan."  
  
"But what about Beatricia? Couldn't she do something? Talk with Cuatemoc?"  
  
Elsbett laughed. "You think that timid little mouse would be able to change that stubborn mule's mind? She can't even decide what to eat for breakfast without his help. You can't seriously have hoped that she'd be able to do anything?"  
  
The hope slowly faded from Beka's eyes. Her eyes drifted onto the floor. That crushing despair which she had felt so many times over the past months came flooding back, embracing her. Once again she felt completely powerless. She was going to lose another person she had cared about and once again, she couldn't do anything to stop it.  
  
She briefly closed her eyes as images of Harper resurfaced. She hadn't been able to save him, just like she hadn't been able to save Rommie. Now, she couldn't save Dylan either.  
  
She felt Elsbett's eyes on her and looked up. She was surprised to find compassion in her eyes. Elsbett was staring at her, seeing the pain in her eyes beneath the cold bitterness.  
  
"Tell me, was I the last card on your table?" she asked quietly.  
  
Wordlessly Beka nodded.  
  
Elsbett continued looking at her, her eyes filled with pity. Never in her life had she so feverently wished that she could help another person. Never before had she found herself nearly loathing herself for not being able to help.  
  
"Beka, I'm sorry." She said. It was the first time in her life that she had called another human by their first name, and the first time that she had ever apologized to a human.  
  
But looking at the pain slowly starting to fill Beka's eyes and the dejected slump of her shoulders, Elsbett doubted whether she had heard her.  
  
Slowly, Beka stood up, her hands shaking. She was clenching her jaws, trying to keep her tears at bay and the pain from gnawing at her heart.  
  
Once again she had failed. She had tried so hard to protect the people she cared about, but once again, they were being torn away from her.  
  
And there was nothing she could do. She had played her last card, she had pulled her last favor, she had run after her last chance. There was nothing else she could do.  
  
Dylan was going to die. Just like Rommie, and just like Harper. Dylan was going to die.  
  
She tried to stop her hands from shaking. "Thank you for your time." She whispered, her voice shaking.  
  
Not looking at the silent and mornful figure sitting in front of her, Beka stood up and slowly walked out the door, gliding across the floor like a ghost.  
  
Once again, there was nothing she could do.  
  
She'd played her last card.  
  
Dylan was going to die.  
  
Elsbett stared after the broken woman who had glided out of the room like a ghost. Moving her hand up to brush a strand of her out of her eyes, she was surprised to feel a tear on her cheek.  
  
For the first time in her life, Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar, Archduchess of the Sabra-Jaguar Pride, was crying. 


	5. Chapter 5

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 5  
  
* * * * * (three days later) * * * * *  
  
Beka's hands were shaking as she struggled to hold onto the controls of her ship. She was flying slower than she ever had in her entire life. This was one trip that she didn't want to make, didn't want to fly, didn't want to even have to think about.  
  
She drew in a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to stay focused on the black space she was flying through.  
  
Tomorrow Dylan was going to die. Tomorrow.  
  
She shook her head to push that thought out of the way. She punched in the coordinates for the next system and gripped the controls.  
  
Shoving them forward, all of her thoughts turned to navigating the slipstream she was pulled into. Jerking the controls around, she squinted through the chains of electricity which flickered around her, trying to see the nearest portal. Finally she found one and steered her ship over to it.  
  
When she reached the exit, the stream threw her and her ship out and once again, she was floating through black space.  
  
Her thoughts returned to Dylan.  
  
She bit her lip. What the hell was she going to say to him? It had been so hard to say good bye to Rommie, and Harper, well, that had been torture. Now she would have to say good bye again.  
  
She found herself thinking about those people whom she always overheard in bars, talking about how they never got to say good bye to the people they had cared about before they had died.  
  
Beka was starting to envy them.  
  
Her hands were shaking so badly now that she was involuntarily tearing the ship around in a zig zag pattern.  
  
Growing frusterated with her own lack of self control and her inability to be strong, she violently threw the controls down.  
  
She buried her face in her shaking hands.  
  
Slowly, she forced herself to be strong. A little voice inside of her nagged that it was too hard to be strong. But she had to be. One last time. She had to be strong.  
  
She knew how scared Dylan was right now. She also knew that he wouldn't admit that to anyone, even her.  
  
She had to be strong for him. She had to be his loyal and strong first officer one last time.  
  
With new determination, she picked up the controls and punched in the coordinates for Gehena.  
  
One more jump.  
  
One more time of being strong.  
  
It worked out perfectly.  
  
Beka held her chin up and set her jaw as she strode down the corridor beside Trance. They were walking down the same corridor in the same headquarters and were being escorted by the same Nietzscheans. Or at least Beka thought they were the same. They all looked like clones anyway.  
  
She had refused to speak with Cuatemoc.  
  
She had contacted the headquarters and had demanded to see Dylan. When they laughed at her and told her to go to hell, she spat that they should consult with the Admiral before telling her to leave.  
  
They had immediately stopped laughing, and, after contacting Cuatemoc, brusquely told her to go ahead and land.  
  
Once they were inside the headquarters, they were asked to hand over their weapons again. Beka had been about to throw her force lance and gun at the guard who had demanded them, but firmly reminded herself that Dylan would want her to act like the mature person he knew she was. She gritted her teeth. Fine. She'd play nice. But only for Dylan.  
  
Beka lengthened her stride, completely unaware of Trance struggling to keep up.  
  
They neared the end of the corridor where they were met by a door. The guards escorting them unlocked the door and walked through, with Beka and Trance on their heels.  
  
They found themselves walking down a long hallway with jail cells lining both sides of the walls.  
  
They kept on walking, passing by one cell after another, all of which were deserted. Except for a shaking, whining Perseid sitting huddled in one and a cluster of humans sitting in another, they were empty. Beka remembered that the headquarters had only been in use for a few days. Not long enough for the bastard Admiral to start stocking up on prisoners.  
  
She gritted her teeth. Except for Dylan.  
  
The guards came to a halt in front of one of the cells. She peered into the cell.  
  
She was surprised to find not just one row of bars separating her from the lone figure inside, but two. There was close to a meter of empty floor between the two bars.  
  
Well, not quite empty. Beka squinted and saw the tiny outlines of little pads covering the floor. Remembering her father's and Harper's old words, she immediately knew they were pressure sensitive. If anything bigger than a fly landed on them, enough sirens would go off to wake the Vedrans on Tarn Vedra.  
  
Not only that, but there was a large lock on the door of her row of bars. Beka quickly glanced at the lock. A blinking red light on it told her that it was probably rigged to explode if anything touched it asides from the right key card.  
  
She nearly whistled. In terms of security, she had to hand it to the Dragans. If they didn't want somebody escaping from them, then that person didn't escape.  
  
Beka squinted into the dark cell. It was hard to see through the two rows of bars and the harsh lighting from the corridor only made the unlit cell darker.  
  
She could make out a small cot in one corner of the cell, with a small toilet in the other corner.  
  
If she squinted really hard, she could almost make out the person who was sitting on the cot. But before she could looker closer, she found somebody grabbing her by the arms.  
  
Immediately, she ripped her arms out of the guards arms and glared up at him.  
  
He was staring down at her coldly.  
  
"The Admiral told me that you'll be wanting to speak with the prisoner in private. We'll respect that as long as you respect our rules."  
  
She didn't answer, only glared at him. She wasn't going to thank him for letting her see an innocent man whom they were going to kill tomorrow.  
  
He took her silence as an agreement. "The purple thing can talk to him first. Ten minutes, no longer. You'll be waiting with us in this side room." He waved a dismissive hand at a small room which was at the end of the corridor. "When the purple thing is finished, you can talk to him for ten minutes. After that, you leave. Understood?"  
  
She clenched her jaw. Instead of answering, she pushed past him and strode towards the room at the end of the corridor with long strides, keeping her chin up. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would let them feel like they were doing her a favor. And there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd let them order her around. If she had to listen to their orders, then she'd do so quietly.  
  
Be mature, that little voice nagged at her. She told it to shut up as she yanked open the door and walked into the room.  
  
She went over to one of the chairs and stiffly sat on it.  
  
When the guards came after her, she just gazed at them coldly, not saying a word.  
  
Never in her entire life had ten minutes gone by so slowly. She didn't have her force lance with her, which Harper had programmed long ago to tell the time, so her only indication of what time it was came from the nods or the shakes which exchanged between the guards when one of them asked the other what time it was.  
  
She was just about to start drumming her fingers on the arm rests of the chair, but stopped herself in time.  
  
She curled her fingers into a fist and was about to start hammering on the chair out of boredom and frusteration, but thankfully, the guard stood up just then and mumbled that it was her turn.  
  
Beka slowly stood up and walked past him out the door and down the corridor.  
  
She was hardly aware of passing a shaking Trance, who was on her way into the room, but Beka was thinking only of Dylan.  
  
She hurried up to the cell and desperately tried to pierce through the darkness. After blinking a few times, she could make out the bed again, and the toilet.  
  
Finally, she could make out the figure of the person sitting on the bed. Slowly, the person pushed himself off the bed and stumbled over to the bars.  
  
She clutched the bars, hardly aware of the cold metal pressing against her hands. It was Dylan. It was really him.  
  
"Dylan." She breathed.  
  
She stared across at him. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness of the cell and she could see him clearly.  
  
He was wearing the same shirt he had worn underneath his uniform when she had last seen him on the Maru. She was stunned when she realized that had only been a week ago. Was it really just a week ago?  
  
His shirt was torn and was stained with something dark colored. Beka guessed that it was probably blood. His pants were torn too, one of the pants legs had been ripped off just below the knees.  
  
She noticed that his wrists were handcuffed together and there were deep gashes on his wrists where the tight metal cuffs had dug into his skin.  
  
She raised her eyes and looked up at his face.  
  
His face was so pale and was so haggard looking that Beka hardly recognized him. His hair hung in dirty strands around his hollow cheeks. A deep cut was on his pale forehead, a small trickle of dried blood running down to his cheek and a dark bruise colored one of his cheeks. His nose looked like it had been broken.  
  
Although the rest of him had shocked her, his eyes were what shook her the most.  
  
Dark circles encircled his eyes, which looked sunken in his shallow face. They were bloodshot from lack of sleep and lack of food.  
  
But it was the expression in those eyes that truly scared her. They looked so completely dejected and defeated that Beka couldn't even recognize him. He looked so tired. So damn tired.  
  
Beka bit her lip. Dylan was really at the end of his rope.  
  
She knew that he had already given up long before she had shown up.  
  
Suddenly, she didn't know what to say to him. What do you say to a person who was going to die tomorrow and who had already accepted that fate days ago?  
  
He gave her a small smile, bringing back the ghost of his old self.  
  
"Hey, Beka." He whispered.  
  
Beka tried to smile but failed. She knew that smiling was far too hard of an ordeal these days so she just abandoned that.  
  
"Hey." She whispered back, still clutching the bars.  
  
Her gaze slid down to his wrists again.  
  
She cleared her throat. "Did they hurt you bad?"  
  
He shrugged his shoulders. "Not too badly. They knew we didn't have any real plans, so there wasn't anything they really wanted to get out of me. It was all just for show, you know?"  
  
She knew. She looked up at him, suddenly feeling unbelievable guilty. "Dylan, I tried to get you out of here. I went and talked to the Admiral, but he said that he wouldn't let you out, so then I went to Charlemagne and then to Elsbett, but neither of them could—"  
  
He held up both of his hands, silencing her. "I know, Beka. I know. The guards told me you were here right after you left. Then Charlemagne came down here a few days ago too. Must have been right after you spoke to him. He tried to talk to the Admiral too, but he basically got the same response you did."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly surprised. Charlemagne had risked his neck for Dylan? She slightly shook her head. Now was not the time to start dwelling on that.  
  
She looked up at Dylan again. She bit her lip.  
  
"Dylan, I know I haven't been the best company and best crewmember for the past few months, and for that I'm really sorry—"  
  
Again he held up a hand. A small smile crossed his face again. "Beka, I out of all people know and understand why you did and said the things you did and said. Trust me, you had every right to do and say those things. You never did anything wrong, and I'll wring your neck if you blame yourself for any of this." He gave a small laugh. "Not that I'm in any position to wring your neck right now."  
  
Beka felt a smile flicker across her face. She was surprised at how hard it felt to smile. She hadn't smiled in a long time.  
  
Dylan cleared his throat. "Beka, I know you don't have much longer, and the Divine knows I don't have much longer either, so you have to listen to me."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Beka, I want you to keep on going."  
  
She frowned at him in confusion. "With what?"  
  
"With everything that I started. With the Commonwealth, with the peace, and with the war."  
  
She stared at him. "Dylan, you know as well as I do that this war is suicide—"  
  
He nodded. "Beka I know that." He looked at her, his eyes more alive than they had been during their entire conversation. "Beka, I don't care if we win or lose, not with this war, not with the Commonwealth and with peace throughout the universe." He swallowed hard. "All that matters is that you tried."  
  
Beka suddenly found herself remembering the last time he had said these words to her. Then too he had been close to death and had begged her to keep on fighting for him. She swallowed. The situation was exactly the same, only this time she wouldn't be able to pull some miracle trick and save him.  
  
"Beka, I want you to keep on fighting for me. Even if we lose, then I still want you to be able to say that you tried. We might lose, but we'll be able to say that we gave it everything we had." He whispered. He swallowed hard, remembering the promise he had made to Harper. A promise he could no longer keep. "Beka, I made a promise not to let the Commonwealth die. I can't keep that promise any longer, but you can keep it for me. Promise me that, Beka. Promise that you'll keep on fighting for me. That you'll keep that promise for me."  
  
She stared at him. He was asking her to keep on fighting. A slow feeling of panic seized her.  
  
"Dylan, I can't do it." She stammered.  
  
"Of course you can."  
  
"No, Dylan, I'm not a soldier, I'm not a diplomat, hell, I'm not even a real captain. I don't know how to fight a war. I don't know how to negotiate with angry warlords or how to bring peace between feuding worlds. I don't know how to make long, convincing speeches to a roomful of important people. I'm just me, Dylan. I can't do it."  
  
He gave her a small smile. "Beka, I'm just a 344 year old High Guard fossil, and yet I came this far. Despite all the odds, all the naysayers, despite all the crap that the universe had thrown at me, I still came this far. And you came with me. Beka, I couldn't have come this far without you, you know that." He grinned at her. "I set them up, and you knock them down, don't you remember?"  
  
Beka nearly smiled again when she heard those familiar words. How damn long ago she had said those words.  
  
She looked up at him again.  
  
"Beka, I know you can do this. I don't know if you can win, hell, I don't know if anybody can win, but I know that you'll try. That's why I'm asking you to do this, because I know that you'll try and that you'll give it your all and go down fighting. I know that you won't give up."  
  
Beka stared at him. That feeling of panic was slowly ebbing away. Dylan wanted her to fight for him. To pick up where he left off. To keep on trying.  
  
And she'd do it. To hell with the odds, the naysayers and the other crap. She'd do it. She'd keep on fighting and trying.  
  
She raised her chin slightly as a spark rekindled in her eyes which hadn't shone in them for months already.  
  
Dylan smiled when he saw the spark in her eyes. That spark of determination. The determination which he knew only she had. That determination which he completely trusted in her.  
  
She gave him a firm nod. "I'll do it Dylan. I'll keep on fighting. I'll keep on trying." She said, her voice sounding so strong and determined that it even surprised her.  
  
Dylan grinned at her.  
  
She nodded again. "I'll do it Dylan. Don't worry. I'll keep on fighting. I promise."  
  
His first officer looked across the two row of bars, determination and loyalty glinting in her eyes.  
  
Beka stared across the bars at him. Slowly, she pushed one of her arms through the bars. She strained forward, shoving her arm through until her shoulder was wedged between two bars, but she kept on reaching.  
  
Dylan put his hands up to the bars and held them sideways and forced them through the bars. Straining against the hard metal, they pushed their hands towards each other.  
  
Finally, they reached each other. Stretching out their hands, their fingers lightly touched and brushed against each other before their arms fell down from exhaustion.  
  
Beka pulled her arm back through the bars.  
  
Blinking back the tears she could feel welling up beneath her eye lids, she stared at Dylan.  
  
She would never see him again. Never again would she talk to him, argue with him or laugh with him.  
  
Never again.  
  
She drew in a deep shaky breath. "Good bye, Dylan." She whispered.  
  
Dylan gave her a nod, tears rolling down his pale face. "Good bye, Beka."  
  
Slowly, Beka stepped away from the bars, letting her arms fall to her sides. That painful lump rose in her throat and she felt the tears starting to roll down her face.  
  
Slowly, she started walking backwards down the hall, holding Dylan's gaze until she couldn't make out his figure against the dark cell walls.  
  
Swallowing hard and forcing the lump down, she stopped. "I promise, Dylan." She called over to him, her voice shaking. "I'll keep on fighting. I'll keep on trying. I promise." The last word was nothing more than a whisper, but she knew that Dylan had heard her.  
  
Slowly, she turned around and started walking down the corridor. On her way towards the door which would lead her to the other front hall where she'd left her weapons, she brushed the tears off her cheeks and swallowed the lump in her throat.  
  
Setting her jaw, she held her chin up. She wasn't going to show them that they had hurt her. She wouldn't let them see her pain. No. She was fighting Dylan's war now. She had to be strong.  
  
Marching down the corridor, she was about to reach the front hall, when she heard a door clicking shut behind her.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Admiral Cuatemoc standing behind her, looking at her with an amused expression on his face.  
  
"I take it you saw your captain?" he asked, obviously enjoying the power he thought he had over her.  
  
Well, she'd show him. She raised her chin and glared at him. "I did. He said that your headquarters smell a lot worse than the Andromeda."  
  
The smile slid off his face as he realized his taunts wouldn't make her crumble and break down. He returned her glare.  
  
"On another note, I was on my way to asking you when you wish to negotiate your armistice. I presume you'll want to surrender immediately."  
  
Beka glared. "Presumptions like that could land you in very hot water, Admiral."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, momentarily thrown off track.  
  
"My forces won't be surrendering any time soon." She said flatly.  
  
She saw confusion flicker in his eyes. "Your forces?"  
  
"Yes, my forces." She gave him an icy smile. "And Admiral, if you thought that these past few months have been a hard war, you haven't seen anything yet. You may wish to consider recalling your fleet."  
  
He laughed. "Because of that pathetic cavalry of mishapes that you've collected? Not likely."  
  
She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. Have it your way. Admiral, I know we won't win, but trust me, we'll make your life a living hell for as long as we have breath left in our bodies." She said quietly, making a vow which she would live with for years to come.  
  
Both of the Admiral's eyebrows rose now as he stared at her. In confusion or disbelief, Beka didn't know. And she didn't care.  
  
Turning swiftly on her heels, she marched down the corridor, her words echoeing in the empty hallway in which the lone Nietzschean Admiral stood, gaping after the woman who was striding away from him.  
  
* * * * * (two weeks later) * * * * *  
  
Beka slowly walked down the long corridor of Charlemagne's ship, with Colonel Yau by her side. She glanced at the walls as she walked down the hall. The ship wasn't very large, but Charlemagne thought of it as his pride and joy.  
  
What the hell was its name again? Beka thought it over. She couldn't remember.  
  
"What's this wreck called again?" she muttered to the Colonel beside her.  
  
Without looking at her or changing her cold face expression, Colonel Yau responded. "The Sunrise." Her voice was just as flat and cold as it usually was.  
  
Beka was nearly used to it.  
  
They reached a door at the end of the long hallway and stood before it for a moment before the door quietly slid open.  
  
Beka stepped through and quickly glanced around the room.  
  
There was a large table in the center of the room, which was covered in bowls of fruit and various bottles of champagagne and wine. Vases of flowers sat on the black stands and the counter on the far side of the room. A large painting of the Sunrise was hanging on the far wall.  
  
Beka managed a grim smile. There could be no doubt in anybody's mind that she was standing on Charlemagne Bolivar's ship.  
  
Sitting around the table were the rest of her allies.  
  
Commander Maston was twisting his napkin into the shapes of various animals, a look of sheer boredom on his face. General Tumak was sitting beside him, nervously drumming his fingers on the table and his eyes darting all around the room, probably looking for the easiest way to reach the door and run.  
  
Elsbett was sitting at the far end of the table, a champagne flute in her hands. She briefly glanced up when Beka entered. Taking another sip of her drink, Elsbett stood up and swiftly sat down on a chair facing Commander Maston.  
  
Beka stared at her in confusion. This was her ship. Why wouldn't she want to sit at the end of the table?  
  
The archduchess took another slow sip of her champagne and glanced over at Beka, a cold glare in her eyes daring Beka to say anything in the way of protesting.  
  
As Beka stared at her, she swore she could see a small hint of something else in those glaring eyes. But Beka was too tired to try to mull that over.  
  
She walked down the table and sat down in Elsbett's former seat. Colonel Yau sat down beside Elsbett. Neither of them did as much as glance at each other.  
  
Beka stared down the table, over a large bowl of fruit and two bottles of wine at the figure sitting at the head of the table.  
  
Charlemagne was reclining comfortably in his chair, a small strand of grapes in one hand. With his other hand, he was delicately picking the grapes off the vine and then tossing them into his mouth and slowly chewing on them.  
  
Beka nearly glared at him. No matter what happened, the man would always be so infuriatingly easygoing and polite. Even when everything went wrong, even after Dylan died, Charlemagne still ordered bottles of wine and fresh fruit to be served to his ally military leaders.  
  
She found it so infuriating that she had to resist the urge to throw the champagne flute sitting in front of her down the table at him.  
  
Charlemagne smiled at her as he slowly studied her face. He cocked his head. That bitterness and coldness was there. He knew that he hadn't been wrong about something bad having happened to Captain Hunt's fiery first officer. Although he hadn't asked her, his wife had contacted him right after Beka had left after their meeting. She quickly asked him if he had noticed the change in her behavior and had then quietly murmured that she was quite certain that something within the woman had faded out and died since she had last seen her. Charlemagne had agreed with his wife and then had wondered outloud what could have happened to her. Elsbett had raised her eyebrows.  
  
"You mean you didn't ask?"  
  
He shrugged. "I thought it would be highly inapproapriate."  
  
She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. "Of course you would."  
  
He smiled at her. "You know that little human saying about opposites attracting is really true, don't you? Anyway, I take it that you asked her, right? So, enlighten me. What happened to our darling Beka Valentine since I last saw her?"  
  
Elsbett had lowered her eyes and he had noticed that she had grown slightly uncomfortable. He noticed it in the way she suddenly clasped her hands behind her back. He frowned. It wasn't like his wife to get uncomfortable in any situation, much less a situation involving a human.  
  
Quietly she had quickly scrolled through the list which Beka had told her. Charlemagne was surprised to hear the names of Trance and Harper and Rev Bem coming from her instead of the usual 'purple monkey, pitiful human and the Magog'. Whatever had changed Beka Valentine had also changed his wife.  
  
She noticed him staring at her and had irritably demanded to know what he was staring at. He had given her a dismissive wave and quickly changed the subject. He knew his wife too well. If he brought up these changes he had observed within her, she'd hotly deny them and launch them into a bitter argument which they would only resolve months later.  
  
Fighting a war with the Dragans was nothing compared to fighting a war with Elsbett. He preferred to only do one of them at a time.  
  
Charlemagne forced his thoughts to wander away from his wife and Beka and to concentrate at the task at hand.  
  
He grinned broadly at the people sitting in front of him. His wife was swirling her chamagne in her glass, Beka was glaring at the table, Colonel Yau was coldly gazing around the room, Commander Maston was still twisting an expensive napkin into impossible shapes and looked bored and General Tumak looked ready to leap out of his chair and run out the door at the slightest encouragement.  
  
"So," he said, trying to sound as joyful as possible. "I'm glad to see that we could all come together on such short notice." He grinned around.  
  
After noticing that nobody's face expressions changed, except that Beka raised her head and glared at him, he quickly let the phoney smile slide off his face. He nearly felt relieved. He was in no mood to smile and joke around and play the merry host.  
  
He looked at his fellow military leaders.  
  
"I called this meeting out of pure necessity. Taking into consideration recent events, such as the Dragan fleet reinforcements being within two days arrival distance and our supreme military leaders execution," he had slight difficulty getting the last few words out, but was determined to stay strong. After all, they were on board his ship. He had to keep up a strong front. "I thought that it was high time that we discussed the future of this war."  
  
Beka raised her head again and glared at him. "What's there to discuss?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Beka, I'm well aware that you told my darling brother-in-law that you intend to go on fighting, but you do forget that you aren't in command of all our forces and that you yourself have only comitted the Maru and that little purple pixie, Trance, to your continuation of the war. When you swore to continue fighting, your decision did not bind the rest of us to you."  
  
Knowing full well that he was right, Beka let her glare revert to the table again. Reaching over, she grabbed a wine bottle and poured herself a glass. Taking it into her hands, she swallowed a gulp of it. Liking the soothing feeling of the cold liquor going down her tight throat, she took another sip. If she kept on drinking, then she wouldn't resort to screaming at Charlemagne.  
  
Charlemagne's gaze travelled to General Tumak.  
  
"General, you are in command of all the Perseid forces and therefore, you speak for all of them. Did you receive any instructions from Sinti over the last few days concerning the matter of the continued assistance of the Perseids in this war?"  
  
The General's gaze nervously darted between Charlemagne and the door. He shook his head.  
  
"Well, not exactly. You see, I tried contacting them, but there were some technical difficulties." He stammered, giving everyone a wide smile. "Not very extensive difficulties, but just enough to keep transmittions from properly being sent from here to Sinti. Sinti is quite far away from here, you know. It takes quite a while and quite a bit of power to properly transmit messages from here to—"  
  
"He's lying." Beka's flat voice interupted the General's nervous stammering. His eyes widened when he heard Beka's words and he quickly glanced back at Charlemagne.  
  
He started wildly shaking his head.  
  
"No, sir, I swear, I'm not. I tried contacting Sinti many times over the past two weeks since that unfortunate incident with Captain Hunt. My, just the other day, yesterday, in fact, I tried to—"  
  
Beka slammed her hand on the table. Some of the wine in her glass spilt but she didn't notice.  
  
"General, would you stop spewing that bullshit all over the place? It's getting tiring." She hissed.  
  
The gaping Perseid quickly shut his mouth and shrank back in his chair.  
  
With an annoyed sigh, Beka ran a hand through her hair. "The Perseid fleet is having no techical difficulties whatsoever. The General hasn't contacted Sinti once in the past week." Beka gave a harsh laugh. Charlemagne nearly recoiled at the bitterness of it. "I doubt that he's even informed Sinti of Dylan's death. The General knows as well as you and I know that Sinti owes Dylan a favor. A big one. If it wouldn't have been for Dylan, or rather, if it wouldn't have been for one pigheaded engineer, Sinti would have permanently lost their resident pride and joy genius. Hoehne was considered the greatest mind of our age. Because of Dylan and his decisions, or rather, because of Harper's decisions, Sinti got their genius back. They owe Dylan a big one and their way of paying him back would be to support the war. The General knows this, Charlemagne, and he's afraid to contact Sinti because he knows what the High Command will say just like I know. They'll say to keep on fighting because they have a debt to pay. The General here thinks that if he isn't specifically ordered to keep on fighting by the High Command, that he can find a little excuse and use to it to hightail it home." Beka glared at the General who had shrunken even further back in his chair.  
  
Charlemagne turned to stare at the Perseid, annoyance in his eyes. He had always despised Perseids and their cowardice, but it had never annoyed him so badly before.  
  
Charlemagne took a deep breath and tore his eyes off the shaking, terrified Perseid, whose gaze was pleading him to let him go.  
  
"Beka, I hate cowards as much as you do, but being nervous and bickering cowards is part of Perseids personalities." He glanced at Beka who was glaring at him. "But, this war is going to be hardest war since the fall of the Commonwealth. Whoever is fighting on our side needs to be on our side because they want to be, not because they're forced to."  
  
Beka lowered her eyes again. It was true. She could easily pull our her lance and hold it against Tumak's head and his terrified rolling eyes and force him to commit to the war, but who could guarantee that in the middle of fighting he wouldn't just order his troops to stand down and run away? That wasn't a gamble she could take in this war.  
  
She sighed. "Fine." She briefly closed her eyes. "General, if you and your forces don't want to keep on fighting, then you're welcome to leave."  
  
The General's eyes widened and he slowly sat up. "You mean I can go home?" He breathed, sounding so hopeful that it disgusted Beka.  
  
"Yes, you can pack up and hightail it home just like you've been dreaming for the past few months."  
  
A huge smile of relief spread across his face. "Oh, thank you, Captain Valentine, thank you." He crowed.  
  
Beka glared at him. "Don't you dare thank me, General. Don't thank me for giving a coward the permission to run away. I have nothing to do with cowards. Nothing. That's why I'm letting you leave."  
  
He slightly recoiled from her tone and the smile wavered. However, that didn't stop the relief which was evident on his face.  
  
He quickly pushed his chair back and, muttering thank you's and nodding at everybody sitting around the table, he quickly made his way towards the door. Grinning widely and muttering one last thank you at Beka, he quickly walked out of the room.  
  
Beka didn't watch him leave. She would have probably leapt up and strangled the coward as he crawled from the room, his damn chin between his legs.  
  
As the door swished closed behind him, Beka took another sip of her wine. Well, they'd lost one player, but she still had more.  
  
She glanced up and looked at Commander Maston, who had made quite an impressive collection of napkin animals infront of him. She cleared her throat.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
He dropped the napkin he was folding and he shrunk together, his eyes widening. He quickly looked at her, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.  
  
"Yes, Captain Valentine?" he asked.  
  
She briefly closed her eyes, trying to restrain herself from leaping up and shaking the damn man by his throat. They were discussing a war here and he was making animals out of napkins. Impossible.  
  
She gave him a strained smile.  
  
"I don't suppose you've been following our conversation?" She nearly didn't bother to ask.  
  
He blinked. "Well, to tell the truth, not really, Captain. I noticed that the General was quite distressed a moment ago—" he pointed at the empty chair next to him. As he glanced at it, he suddenly realized it was empty. He blinked. "Oh, I didn't realize he had left," he cleared his throat, the blush growing redder. "Anyway, I would be very happy to answer any questions you might have for me, Captain."  
  
Beka fought to keep the smile on her face. "Commander, I need a simple yes or a no answer. Did you speak with the military command on Mobius since Dylan's—since a couple of weeks?"  
  
He nodded. "Of course. I brief them every two days."  
  
"And Commander, do you intend to stay in this war?"  
  
He blinked at her for a minute. Beka had nearly expected this. It always took the idiot a moment to remember that they were fighting a war.  
  
Suddenly, understand dawned on his face. The blush disappeared from his cheeks and he sat up straighter. He looked Beka straight in the eye.  
  
"Captain, I won't lie to you. I might not be the brightest military leader to ever have fought a war, but I'll tell you one thing, I'm not a coward either. I started fighting this war with you, and I'll finish it with you."  
  
The glare disappeared from her eyes as Beka stared at him. She had never expected this loyalty and courage from him. Never.  
  
He gave her a firm nod, determination and fear mingled in his eyes. "You just tell me where to send my troops, and I'll send them. You tell me where to shot and who, and I'll shoot." He licked his dry lips and gave her another nod. "I promise."  
  
Beka found an unexpected smile crossing her lips. She might have lost one player, but she still had some good ones on her plate. Some very good ones.  
  
But before she let that relieved feeling sweep her thoughts off the task at hand, she turned to  
  
Colonel Yau, who had continued to stare coldly around the room.  
  
"Colonel, what about you?"  
  
The Castalian air breather slowly turned her head and stared coldly at Beka. She tossed her hair back from her face, but almost instantly her brown bangs fell back down and some more strands of her hair came down to fram her face. She blinked.  
  
"Captain, I owe Dylan Hunt many favors. By fighting this last war for him, I can repay those debts I owe him." She said simply. "Besides, who will protect that measly bucket of bolts that you insist on flying if it weren't for my fleet?" she asked coldly.  
  
Beka frowned when she heard those last words. She was about to comment on them, but quickly pushed that thought out of her head. She could think about them later, after she had pulled all of her allies as close to her as she could. She had to get all of her players on her board first.  
  
She turned to Charlemagne. She glanced from Charlemagne to his wife and then back.  
  
"And the Sabra-Jaguar? Will you stay or will you leave?"  
  
Elsbett raised her head and glanced at her husband. They stared at each other for a moment, unspoken thoughts travelling between their eyes.  
  
Finally, they both nodded. Charlemagne turned to Beka. "We'll stay. Not only was this our war to begin with, but I signed a pact with Dylan. One which I intend to keep. Especially now."  
  
Elsbett nodded. "Besides, if we leave, you wouldn't have anybody to watch your back for you."  
  
She cocked her head to the side and slowly let her gaze meet Beka's. "I hate cowards, but what I hate even more are people who turn away from the backs of the people they were supposed to be watching." She gave Beka a hard look. "I don't intend to become one of these people."  
  
She continued looking at Beka. "Is that clear, Beka?"  
  
Beka nearly spat out her mouthful of wine when she heard Elsbett using her first name. She had never heard the Nietzschean woman call her anything but kludge. She stared at her. Something that resembled understanding travelled between their glances. They were both fighting this war for Dylan.  
  
Beka was reminded of the reasons why Rommie had died. Rommie had died keeping a promise to a man who she had grown so close to that she couldn't live without keeping a promise to him. Elsbett was doing the same thing. Although she had never admitted it, Elsbett had become very close to Dylan, and she too couldn't live with the thought of breaking a promise to him. Beka nearly smiled. Rommie and Elsbett had been so different. Yet, in a way, they were so similar that it nearly made Beka laugh.  
  
She looked across the table at Charlemagne. "So, we keep on fighting?" she asked quietly.  
  
Charlemagne nodded. "Let's give those Dragans hell." 


	6. Chapter 6

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Beka wearily stepped through the airlock of her ship. She stood in the corridor for a moment, the door swishing shut behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she ran a hand through her hair.  
  
It had been one hell of a long day.  
  
Wearily, she rubbed her eyes. All she wanted to do was go have a long, hot shower and then fall into bed. When her stomache grumbled, she was forced to realize that she hadn't eaten all day. She grimaced. Food first. The shower and bed had to wait.  
  
Slowly, she started walking towards the kitchen.  
  
As she walked, she suddenly realized how quiet it was on the ship. She frowned. It was never this eerily quiet on her ship. There was something wrong with it.  
  
She stopped and mulled it over before finally realizing that she wasn't hearing Trance.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. Usually Trance came running up to her as soon as she boarded the ship, wanting to know how the meetings went.  
  
Beka bit her lip and hugged herself, mildly hurt over her friend not greeting her. But then again, she hadn't been playing the part of Trance's friend very well over the past while.  
  
Come to think of it, she hadn't even tried.  
  
She frowned as she tried to remember the last time she had sat down and talked with Trance. She couldn't remember. Damn. She ran a frusterated hand through her hair.  
  
She felt so guilty and mean that she nearly punched the wall. Ever since the Dragans had taken Dylan, Beka had been so wrapped up with her own grief and the war that she hadn't even bothered to ask Trance how she was doing. She should have. After all, Trance had lost people she cared about too. The same people that Beka had lost.  
  
Beka quietly swore when she realized she'd never stopped to ask Trance is she was okay or how she was holding up.  
  
She ran a hand through her hair. That day when they had gone to see Dylan before he died, Beka had nearly forgotten about Trance all together. She had stormed out of the headquarters and had jumped onto her ship. She had been on her way to the cockpit when she heard the airlock opening. She had turned around, only to find an out of breath and smiling Trance behind her, jokingly asking if Beka had forgotten about her. Beka had blinked, slightly stunned at having to admit to herself that she had.  
  
Of course she hadn't told Trance that.  
  
Damn. Who the hell was she anyway? She used to pride herself with being a good captain and being somebody her crew could lean on any day, any time. She had promised herself long ago to take care of the people who asked her to take care of them.  
  
Well, she'd broken that promise with Rev and Harper, and now she was breaking it with Trance.  
  
Damn.  
  
Forgetting about her hunger, her tiredness or her thoughts about her shower, she strode through the ship towards Trance's little hideout.  
  
In the back of the ship in a little side room which Beka never used for anything was Trance's little garden. In the old days, Trance used to pick up all kinds of strange plants from the planets they visited on their cargo runs and she put them into that room. When they had moved most of their junk onto the Andromeda, Trance had taken most of her plants there too, but had kept some of them on the Maru.  
  
Beka quickly reached the room and the door quietly opened before her.  
  
She blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the dimness in the room. That was strange. Trance normally put up a fuss about how dim the light was in the room and that it was bad for the plants. Beka shook her head. What in the world was the matter with the girl?  
  
"Trance?" she quietly called into the room.  
  
"Hey, Beka." A quiet voice answered her.  
  
When her eyes got used to the darkness, she glanced around the many pots of plants which stood on the tables clustered in the middle of the room. On the shelves were small watering cans, pots of fertilizer and other little gardening tools.  
  
Beka couldn't see Trance. She crouched down and peered underneath the table.  
  
Finally, she saw her. Sitting in the far corner of the room, her knees pulled up to her chest, Trance was staring around the room.  
  
Beka walked around the table and knelt down in front of Trance. Trance didn't look at her.  
  
Beka laid a gentle hand on her knee.  
  
Trance tore her eyes off the wall she was staring at and gave Beka a weak smile. "How did the meeting go?"  
  
Beka nodded. "They went okay. Tumak left but everyone is staying."  
  
Trance smiled. "That's good. Then at least we have a chance."  
  
Beka nodded again, not knowing what to say. Trance lapsed off into silence. Now neither of them knew what to say.  
  
Well, Beka knew that now she would have to apologize. She took a deep breath. Damn, she hated doing this, but she had to.  
  
She was reminded of how Harper used to hate apologizing when he was younger. In his early days on the Maru, he always messed up with one thing or another, and he'd never apologize. Even if everyone, including him, knew it was his fault, he'd never admit to it. Beka had tried to hammer it into his head that apologizing was the easiest way to solve a problem and to move on. It had taken Harper a long time until he had started apologizing for the messes he made. But he'd done it. Now Beka had to do it too.  
  
"Trance, look, I'm sorry." She said. She looked at Trance, who glanced up at her, a puzzled smile on her face.  
  
"For what?" Her voice sounded innocent, but Beka knew that Trance knew what she talking about.  
  
"Trance, don't pull the innocent naïve act on me now. You know as well as I do why I'm apologizing." The smile slid off of Trance's face and she slid back into the sadness in which Beka had found her. "Look, I know that I've been a bitch these past few months." She held up a hand before Trance could start protesting. "And don't deny it, Trance. I've been a bitch. I've broken every promise I've ever made to you. During the entire mess that we've landed in since Harper died, I never once asked you if you were okay, or how you were doing. I never pushed aside my own feelings and my own needs to give you a hug or to be the friend whom you deserve. And I will never forgive myself for that Trance, and I understand if you won't forgive me either. If the situation were reversed, then I sure as hell wouldn't just let it go."  
  
Trance bit her lip. "But Beka, you didn't mean to be mean or to forget about me those times. You were just grieving and you had a lot to worry about."  
  
"My number one worry should have been you, Trance. But it wasn't." Beka interupted her.  
  
Trance answered that by silence.  
  
Beka sighed. She didn't know what else to say. She'd apologized and owed up to all the messes she'd landed herself in with Trance. Now there was nothing else to say.  
  
Trance shifted uncomfortably and looked up at Beka. "Uhm, Beka?"  
  
Beka glanced at her and searched her face with her eyes. It wasn't like Trance to seem so uncomfortable around her.  
  
"Yeah?" she asked softly.  
  
Trance shifted again. "I need to ask you something, something which you won't like answering, and something you'll want to just wave away with your hands, but if you just listen, then I can explain my question. Will you listen?"  
  
Beka frowned. The purple girl's way of changing the topic of conversation was unnerving sometimes. Confused, she nodded.  
  
"Trance, if this has anything to do with the way I've been acting, I told you, you don't have to forgive—"  
  
"I know that, Beka. This isn't about that. It's about me."  
  
Beka nodded. "Go on."  
  
Trance took a deep breath. "Beka, I want to leave."  
  
Beka blinked. It didn't sink in. "Leave where?" she asked point blank.  
  
Trance shrugged, obviously not realizing that Beka hadn't understood what she meant. "I'm not sure yet, but I'll find somewhere."  
  
Beka nodded. "Trance, you know you don't have to be so mysterious and nervous when you're asking me for time off. You ask, I say okay, you go. End of story." She gave her a rueful smile.  
  
Trance's eyes widened. "Beka, I wasn't talking about having time off." She lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. "I meant I want to leave permanently."  
  
The smile wavered and slowly slid off of Beka's face. Her mind suddenly went blank. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. For a moment she couldn't remember who was sitting on the floor infront of her and why they were talking to her. For a moment she even forgot who she was.  
  
Then it hit her. Trance wanted to leave. Fear clutched Beka's heart. She slowly shook her head.  
  
"Trance, you can't." she said. Trance bit her lip. Beka shook her head again. "Trance, you're all I've got left. I can't lose you too." She said, a sob creeping into her voice. She wildly shook her head. "You can't leave me, Trance. I need you."  
  
The tears were now rolling down her face as the fear within her grew so large that she found herself sobbing.  
  
The fear of being alone. The fear of having nobody by her side. That fear which had stayed within her ever since her father had died.  
  
She shook her head again. "No." she breathed.  
  
Trance raised her hand and gently wiped Beka's tears away. "Beka, I have to. I can't stay here anymore. It's too hard." She said, trying to gently explain to the sobbing woman infront of her.  
  
Beka shook her head again and kept on crying. Trance leaned forward and pulled Beka into her arms.  
  
Beka kept on crying, clutching Trance in her arms. God, she didn't want to let her go. She was all that she had left.  
  
Trance felt tears coming to her own eyes too as she let Beka sob into her shoulders.  
  
They sat on the floor for a long time, Trance stroking Beka's back and rocking her back and forth as her captain cried in her arms from the fear of being alone.  
  
Finally, Beka released Trance and let herself collapse against the wall opposite the one Trance was leaning against.  
  
Beka wiped her tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. She'd cried herself out. Now she could think.  
  
She stared across at Trance, who was looking at her with those same sad, understanding eyes with which she always looked at her.  
  
Beka finally found her voice. "Why?" she whispered.  
  
Trance's gaze slid onto the floor again. "Because I made a lot of mistakes."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow. She was going to laugh, but she was afraid to start crying again.  
  
"You? You are the only one in the entire universe who has never done anything wrong, Trance."  
  
Trance shook her head. "No. I made many mistakes, which all stemmed from one mistake." She met Beka's gaze again. Beka saw such sorrow in her eyes that she nearly looked away. "Beka, I made a promise which I didn't keep. I could have. I could have done things differently, but I didn't. I just stood by and let things happen and I let my promise break."  
  
Beka frowned. "What promise?"  
  
"I promised someone that I'd watch over all of you guys and that I'd keep you safe." Trance shook her head slowly, tears filling up her eyes. "And now, you're all I have left. Everyone else is gone. I broke the one promise I made to my best friend before he died. I broke it, Beka. And for that, I can never forgive myself. That's why I want to leave. Maybe, if I go away then I can do something for someone somewhere which will make up for that lost promise. Even though I think that's pretty dumb to think. I mean, you can't keep one promise by making another, but I can try. That's what Dylan always said, didn't he? That it didn't matter if we won or lost, but what mattered was that we tried. I want to leave and try, Beka. I can't stay here." She gestured around the room. "Everything on this ship reminds me of Harper and that reminds me of how I failed him. And that's not something I can take anymore. Call me a coward or call me weak, I don't care, it's probably true. But I can't stay here." Her last words were a whisper.  
  
Beka sighed and leaned her head against the cold wall behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but there weren't any more tears which she had to hold back.  
  
She had to let her go. Her last crewmember, her last friend, her last piece of her family. She had to let her go.  
  
She clenched her jaw. God, how badly she wanted to open her eyes and order Trance to stay. She knew that Trance would stay the instant that she asked. But she couldn't do that to her. No. Especially not after the way she had treated her. No. Beka had to let her go. It was the least she could do.  
  
Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared across the room at Trance. She nodded, swallowing hard so that the lump in her throat eased up enough for her to talk.  
  
"Trance, if you want to leave, I won't stop you." She whispered.  
  
Trance gave her a small smile. God, how Beka would miss that smile. Just like she missed Dylan or Rommie's or Rev's or Harper's smile. Most of all Harper's smile.  
  
Trance kept on smiling. "Thank you, Beka. Not only for letting me leave, but for understanding."  
  
Slowly, Trance pushed herself off the floor. She looked down at her captain.  
  
"Thank you, Beka. For everything." Trance said, forcing her voice to stay strong.  
  
Beka nodded. Her eyes had slid down onto the floor again, but suddenly she raised them and stared up at Trance.  
  
"Trance, will I ever see you again?"  
  
Trance thought about it for a moment, before smiling and nodding. "Normally I wouldn't answer that, but you deserve to know. We'll see each other again. Not any time soon, but years from now. We'll see each other again." Trance smiled.  
  
"Are you sure?" Beka asked, a dull hope in her words.  
  
Trance nodded. "Yes. I'm sure of it. Trust me, Beka."  
  
Slowly, Trance turned towards the door and walked towards it. Beka let her gaze slip onto the floor again. She couldn't watch Trance leave. She couldn't.  
  
Trance paused at the door and turned back to the figure sitting on the floor. "Good-bye, Beka. I'll see you later."  
  
Beka glanced up at her and gave her a weak smile. "Bye, Trance. Take good care of yourself."  
  
Trance nodded, and without another word, walked through the door.  
  
It quietly slid shut behind her.  
  
Beka continued sitting on the floor, staring around the room, trying to keep that pain within her heart to stop. But it wouldn't.  
  
She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself.  
  
She heard the airlock opening and knew that Trance was leaving. There was a quiet squeak as the airlock shut again.  
  
Beka closed her eyes and let her head fall onto her knees.  
  
Now, she was truly alone.  
  
She no longer had a crew, she no longer had any friends. And she no longer had a family.  
  
Somehow she had picked herself off that floor and had slowly wandered down the corridors of her ship. She ran her hands along the walls and the control panels she passed. She stared around herself, wanting to memorize every nook and every cranny of her ship.  
  
This was all she had left. Her ship.  
  
She continued stumbling down the hallway, running her hands over the rungs of the ladders, over the pipes running beside her and the frames of the doorways she passed through.  
  
She found herself remembering what she had said to Dylan and Tyr so long ago. Tyr had wanted to blow her ship up and she had flipped out at him. She'd yelled that this ship was all she had. After everybody would be dead and gone, all she'd have left was this ship.  
  
Now, it was true. Now it was just her and her ship. Alone in the universe. Just her and her ship.  
  
She didn't know where she was going until she stopped.  
  
She looked around herself. She realized she was standing in her crews quarters. The small room in which the bunks her crew slept in sat.  
  
She ducked as she passed underneath Harper's bunk. Without really thinking or allowing herself to shake herself out of the stupor she was stuck in, she grabbed the ladder on the side of the bunk and slowly pulled herself up.  
  
Easing herself onto the bunk, she crawled across the soft mattress and then slowly let herself collapse, her head landing on the pillow. Harper's pillow.  
  
She gazed around the bed as she lay there. One of Harper's shirts lay by her feet. She reached down and pulled it up to her. She held it to her nose and breathed in deeply.  
  
It still smelt like him. Sweat, dirt, Sparky cola spills and that faint smell of grease from machine parts.  
  
She closed her eyes. That was Harper's smell. She hugged the shirt to herself. Glancing down, she saw an empty can of sparky cola by her feet which he had hidden underneath the shirt. She smiled sadly as she remembered how many times she'd yelled at him not to have any open cans of that junk on his bed. He'd spilt it once, kicked over a full can he'd left sitting by his feet. She smiled ruefully. It had been the middle of the night and he'd woken up with a sparky cola soaked bed. He'd gotten up and hopped onto the ground and had fallen asleep on the floor. Beka had heard him moving around and had quietly crept over. She was used to waking in the middle of the night for Harper. Usually he'd wake up from nightmares or from bad memories and she'd get up and comfort him until he fell asleep again. Beka smiled. She'd stumbled into the room, half asleep and had found Harper sleeping on the floor with nothing but his boxers and his shirt. She'd nudged him awake and then dragged him to her bed, both of them too tired to change his sheets or his blanket. The next morning, she'd shaken him awake at five in the morning and made him clean up the mess he'd made and had made him promise not to keep full cans of sparky cola on his bed.  
  
Gently fingering the empty can lying by her feet, she felt tears coming to her eyes as memories of Harper came flooding back to her. Lying on his bed, his smell all around her, it was impossible not to think of him.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut. It was hard enough thinking about all the others, but thinking about Harper was the hardest.  
  
She took in a deep breath. She slowly realized that she could cry now if she wanted to. She could lie here and cry all night if she wanted to. For the first time in years, she was all alone. She didn't have to be strong for anybody, she didn't have to put anybodies needs in front of her own. No. Just like after her father died, she could cry from now until the end of the year if she wanted and nobody would scold her or roll their eyes at her or tell her to keep her chin up.  
  
She tried to swallow that painful lump in her throat, but then realized that she didn't have to. She could just cry.  
  
Opening her eyes and hugging Harper's shirt closer to herself, the tears slowly came.  
  
Painful memories of all her friends flooded her mind. Rommie, Dylan, Rev, Harper and Trance. Trance and Rev were relatively easy to think about. At least they were still out there somewhere, living their lives. Although they had both left her, she could at least feel reassured that they were still okay.  
  
But she still needed them. God, how badly she wanted them back. Have Trance smile at her with that mysterious understanding smile that made her look years older than Beka and have her tell her that it was all going to be okay and that she'd seen the perfect possible future ahead of them. Have Rev gently wipe her tears away and tell her that the Divine and he would take care of her and that if she had hope, that she'd be okay.  
  
She took in a deep breath. It was too hard to have hope these days. Much to hard. God, she needed Rev back. He always gave her hope when she couldn't.  
  
Then her thoughts wandered to Rommie. New tears came and rolled off her cheeks and wet Harper's pillow as she thought about her friend.  
  
Rommie had been so strong. No matter what happened, Rommie always tried her best to be patient and nice to everyone, even though she had the temper of—well, the temper of a warship. But if anything threatened her crew, Rommie wouldn't hesitate to use her power full force to protect her crew. She had been loyal to her death. Everyday, she'd been loyal. First to the Commonwealth, then to her first crew whom she had fought so hard to protect but failed, then to her second crew whom she wouldn't abandon and wouldn't hurt no matter what. Lastly, she'd stayed loyal to Harper. Harper had been closer to her than anyone else and in the end, she had died being loyal to him. Well, Beka thought about it, Rommie certainly kept her promise to him. She hadn't won, but she had tried. And that was all that mattered.  
  
God, how Beka missed her. Missed her loyalty, missed her short temper and warship qualities. Missed having somebody who understood her completely.  
  
Then her thoughts wandered to Dylan. She drew in a shaky breath. Dylan was hard to think about too. At least he had died happy. His life had been torn to shreds not so long ago, but he hadn't crumbled and faded away. No. He'd picked himself up and had kept on going right where he'd left off. With a different crew and in a different universe, but with the same ship, determination and sense of humor. His strength was something that Beka would never understand. How somebody could stay so strong and still find the time to laugh and get things done in a universe that was alien to him was beyond her. She remembered his smile, the infuriating arguments they had together, the way they both shared one crew with an ease which they never had to think about. The way he always watched her back while she watched his. They were two captains, with two ships and with one crew. And Beka wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
That brought her to thinking about Harper. God, Harper. She closed her eyes as the pain within her became stronger. She pressed the shirt to her nose again and breathed in his smell again. Out of all of them, Harper had had the hardest life. Always being handed the bad cards and always being shoved into the bottom of the barrel, his entire life had been one long struggle. It had taken her years until she taught Harper to smile and laugh and hope again. It took even longer for him to trust her. But he had. After countless arguments, threats and tears, Beka and Harper had become their own family. Despite all the hardships and pain that they went through, there was nobody in this universe whom Beka trusted more than Harper. He was the only one who had ever completely understood her. All she'd have to do was come home from somewhere with a shaky smile, and he'd immediately know what was wrong. And he'd never leave her. Never. No matter how hard times got, how angry they were at each other, Harper would never leave her. When she was upset, he'd always drop everything and comfort her. Even though he couldn't help her in words, he would always make her feel better just by being there. He was the only one with whom Beka could drop her tough and strong attitude and collapse into a sobbing, cursing mess and Harper would just smile and hug her until she was okay again.  
  
She drew in a shaky breath. God, how she needed one of his hugs now. But he wasn't here anymore. At the end, he'd left her too.  
  
After everything he had fought through and come out of still smiling, life had handed him one last shitty card. And he'd died because of it.  
  
Never again would she see him scampering around her ship, never again would he grin and give her a "Hey, boss.", never again would concern replace that sparkle in those blue eyes as he asked her what was wrong, never again would she go somewhere knowing that Harper was right beside her and that only death itself could tear him from her side.  
  
She closed her eyes again. Now death really had torn him away from her. Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as the pain within her grew so strong that she wanted to scream  
  
Digging her nails into his shirt, she turned her face and sobbed into his pillow.  
  
"Harper, I need you so much." She sobbed.  
  
She suddenly remembered a promise she had made to him years ago. When she had first let him stay on the Maru. When she had first accepted him as part of her family. He'd made her promise never to leave him. She'd sworn right then and there that she'd never abandon him.  
  
And for years after that, she'd lived up to that promise. No matter how bad times got, or how sick he got, or how angry she was with him, she never left him. It didn't matter how far she had to go, how much money she had to spend, how many favors she had to pull. It didn't matter because at the end, she would always save him. She'd never leave him.  
  
Except this time. Bitter grief dug into her as she squeezed her eyes shut. This time she hadn't saved him. She'd abandoned him. She'd broken the one true promise she'd made to him.  
  
"I'm sorry." She whispered, sobbing into his pillow. "I'm so sorry, Harper. I tried, I really did, but I couldn't do it. I really tried. I'm sorry." She cried, her tears stinging her cheeks as they coursed down her cheeks. It didn't matter if she'd tried. She'd failed him. She'd abandoned him.  
  
As she sobbed, the grief bitterly eating away from her, she suddenly found herself remembering her other promise to him. All of a sudden, his words came back to her.  
  
He'd asked her to let him go. She found herself shaking her head as she sobbed.  
  
No. She couldn't do it.  
  
"It's too hard, Harper. I can't." she sobbed to the pillow as Harper's face hovered in her mind. She saw his gentle, understanding smile and that sparkle in those blue eyes.  
  
She couldn't let him go. No. The others she could. She could deal with them. But not Harper. Not after she'd abandoned him. Not after she'd broken her promise to him.  
  
She kept on sobbing, soaking the pillow beneath her as she pulled the shirt up again and breathed in his smell again.  
  
She kept on crying, the pain within her heart growing duller with each tear.  
  
Slowly, exhaustion started seeping into her as she sobbed. Her grip on the shirt loosened and her sobs started to quiet down as she felt a death like weariness fill her body.  
  
She was suddenly so tired that she couldn't move anymore. She just lay there, tears still coursing down her cheeks and wetting the strands of her hair which were mashed between the pillow and her face.  
  
Slowly, she closed her eyes. Now she was truly cried out. She really didn't have anymore tears left.  
  
Curling herself into a little ball and clutching Harper's shirt to herself, she quietly drifted off to sleep, her head still on the tearstreaked pillow as she lay on Harper's bed.  
  
The empty can of sparky cola lay quietly by her feet as she slowly fell asleep.  
  
She yawned and slowly opened her eyes. For a moment she was confused as to where she was, but when she saw the shirt which lay on the pillow beside her and the empty can which lay by her feet, she remembered.  
  
Suprisingly, the memories of the previous nights brought no tears to her eyes. She managed a tiny smile. She tried thinking about Dylan and Rommie and the rest of them. Again, she surprised herself when she didn't collapse and when the tears didn't come. The only response of grief her body gave her was a dull ache in her heart. She smiled again. She was slowly healing. She was going to try and think about Harper, but she quickly shoved that aside. Going in that direction was still too hard. Guilt immediately dug into her and grief threatened to engulf her the moment she just thought of his name.  
  
Slowly, she pushed herself up and brushed the mashed strands of hair off her cheeks. She shook out the pillow and quietly folded up his shirt and gently laid it down on the rumpled blanket.  
  
Well, at least she was slowly healing.  
  
She yawned again and stretched. She ran a hand through her messy hair and pulled her shirt straight. Well, time for another day.  
  
She crawled across the bed and slid down the ladder. She turned to leave, but suddenly decided to make Harper's bed first. He never made it so she might as well. Who knew how long it would be until somebody slept in it again?  
  
She pulled the blanket straight and thumped the pillow a few times until it got fluffy. She laid the shirt neatly folded beside his pillow. She grabbed the can and was about to through it out, but then decided against that and gently laid it beside the shirt.  
  
Smiling to herself, she glanced around the neatly made bed. The bed looked more straightened out and proper than it had in years.  
  
Her body felt the same way.  
  
Rev had always told her that grieving took time and that healing took even longer, but once she reached that point when she could go one day without crying, then she'll be able to go for even more days without crying.  
  
Beka ran another hand through her hair. She knew that she'd never be the same. Something within her had died with the rest of her family and crew, and she'd never get that back.  
  
But at least, she could heal. Even if the pain stayed within her and if she couldn't think about Harper without crying, she'd heal.  
  
She'd never be the same again, but at least she could be normal again.  
  
She glanced down at her wrinkled shirt. She could start her new day by changing. She walked to her old closet and pulled it open. She took off her shirt and threw it into the laundry hamper which she kept by the door. Then she reached into her closet and pulled out another shirt and pulled it over her head.  
  
Then she headed to the cockpit. She slowly eased herself into the piloting chair and stared out at the empty space before her.  
  
Out of habit, she flicked on her navigation screen and scrolled back in the memory banks until she could see the ships which had flown past her during the night.  
  
Except for a lone cargo carrier nobody else had bothered her. Good.  
  
Alright, buck up Valentine and get to business.  
  
Charlemagne and Colonel Yau had wanted to launch an offensive on Gehena in the next few days. The headquarters weren't heavily guarded, but by blasting the Dragans headquarters to pieces, they could score major moral points, and hopefully, if Admiral Cuatemoc was inside while they nailed Gehena, they'd blow him to pieces too. A bitter smile spread across Beka's face, her good mood evaporating. Blowing that bastard to hell was something which she'd been wanting to do for weeks already ever since Dylan's death.  
  
"Maru, hail Charlemagne Bolivar for me." Her voice was again harsh and bitter. She didn't think twice about it. When she was by herself in her ship with nothing to do, she could let down her guard, her protective barrier, but not when there were things to do. No, no, no. Being soft and easygoing never earned her any brownie points. Especially in a war.  
  
She started drumming her fingers on the arm rest of her chair as she impatiently waited for Charlemagne to answer her hail.  
  
The screen above her suddenly lit up as a yawning, tired looking Nietzschean Archduke blinked at her. A tired smile spread across his face. "Good morning, Beka. I'm surprised to see you awake at such an hour—"  
  
Beka rolled her eyes with annoyance. "Charlemagne, I don't know how you fight a war, but sleeping through it isn't a way to win."  
  
He laughed. "Your sense of humor does wonders for a morning person such as myself."  
  
She didn't smile. Annoyance filled her. They were fighting a war here, and the man was yawning and making jokes.  
  
"Charlemagne, could you wake up and focus enough to tell me about what happened last night? Anything interesting?"  
  
"Anything interesting? Oh, yes. Alaric's colicky, you know? Screamed and cried for three straight hours last night.You could hear the little thing's screaming from here to Tarn Vedra. I'm surprised the Vedrans didn't hail us and tell us to keep him quiet or they'd launch a full scale assault—"  
  
Her patience was stretching thin. "Charlemagne, I was thinking more in terms of ships and the war when I asked about news, not your son."  
  
"Oh," he wearily rubbed his eyes. "Ships. The war. You know how easy those things are to do compared to raising a colicky child?"  
  
"I wouldn't know." She answered, resisting the urge to strangle him through the screen.  
  
He smiled. "Anyway, our darling General Tumak hailed me last night and told me that his fleet is leaving for Sinti. They should be heading out any time this morning."  
  
Beka bit her lip. "You know we could use them for the assault on Gehena."  
  
"I know, I know, but forcing them to stay won't do us any favors in the end. Anyway, Beka, would you mind terribly if we postpone the attack until tomorrow?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows and anger leapt into her eyes. Postpone the attack? "Why?" she demanded.  
  
He yawned. "Because I'm tired as hell and I can't command an entire fleet of my ships when I'm tired. Besides, the Perseids will take their sweet time moving and if they get entangled in the attack then all we'd have left at the end is an entire fleet of butchered Perseids and a very angry Council on Sinti. I could live with neither."  
  
She drummed her fingers on her arm rests again. She hated to wait until later, but she had to admit he was right. If those idiotic chinheads got in the middle of things then all hell would break lose.  
  
"Alright." She muttered, rubbing her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt. She needed some coffee. She glanced up at the viewscreen. "Hail me as soon as there's a problem or if you change your mind about the postponement. Now go and get some sleep. All I need is one of my allied military leaders falling asleep in the middle of an attack." She muttered while glaring up at him.  
  
She reached up and turned off the viewscreen. Rubbing her stiff neck, she pushed herself off her chair and headed towards the kitchen to make coffee.  
  
She was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, quietly sipping a cup of coffee when a message came through. The loud beep of an incoming message echoed throughout the ship. Beka took another sip. Probably some stupid Perseid fighter asking which slipstream route was the fastest to Sinti.  
  
She gritted her teeth. Damn cowards.  
  
Another beep. She swore under her breath. Insistent bastard.  
  
Gripping her coffee mug, she marched over to the cockpit. She turned on the viewscreen.  
  
"What?" she demanded, before she even saw who she was talking to.  
  
A laugh greeted this. "Beka Valentine, do you always greet your allies with such politeness?"  
  
Her head jerked up. It was Charlemagne. Oh, great.  
  
"You decide to cancel the postponement?" she asked, taking another sip of her coffee.  
  
He grinned at her. "I'm afraid not. I'm still ready to fall on my face and fall asleep at the slightest encouragement, but I'm afraid I have rather urgent business that needs taking care of. The Perseid fleet was just moving out of the system when they were ambushed by a division of the Dragan fleet. General Tumak hailed me a moment ago whining and terrified and of course asking for assistance. My fleet is two systems away, you, however, and the Castalians are within one jump of them."  
  
Beka quickly swallowed her coffee.  
  
"I'm on my way. Tell the cowards that their saviors will be there as soon as they can. Tell them to keep their chins on while they're shaking and whining on their ships."  
  
She set her mug down and quickly sat down on her piloting chair. Cutting off her connection with Charlemagne, she hailed the Colonel.  
  
The image of the frowning, dark haired woman filled her screen.  
  
"Yes, Captain?" she asked, with her usual coldness.  
  
Beka was strapping herself in and was revving up her engines. "General Tumak and the other chinheads were ambushed in the next system. They need our help." She said, while punching in her coordinates.  
  
The Colonel gave her a cool nod. "I'm on my way, Captain."  
  
Beka nodded. "I'll met you there, Colonel."  
  
She switched off the screen and quickly grabbed her controls and flew towards the nearest slipstream portal. Opening a portal, she shoved the controls further and was immediately pulled into the flickering maze of electricity of the slipstream. Jerking the controls around, her eyes glued to the silver chains she was flying through, she quickly spied the exit she wanted. Steering her ship towards it, she reached the end and the slipstream released her.  
  
She punched on her navigation screen and quickly saw the cluster of Perseid fighters huddling together right in front of her, surrounded by a small division of Dragan fighters.  
  
The Perseids were just sitting there. Beka swore. Idiots and cowards. What a combo.  
  
Immediately, she switched on her firepower and shoved her controls forward, flying towards the Dragans.  
  
As she reached the fleet, she pushed the red button on her controls and a small volley of missiles flew through space towards the Dragan fleet.  
  
Staring infront of her, she saw two fighters explode. Some of the fighters had turned to fire on her. Quickly, she jerked her ship out of the way and prepared to send another volley of missiles.  
  
She heard a beep as she received a hail. Reaching up, she turned on the screen.  
  
It was Colonel Yau. "We're here Captain, and firing. I thought you'd like to know."  
  
Beka nodded. "I appreciate it, Colonel."  
  
They both cut their connection at the same time and Beka sent off another volley of missiles while she dodged around the floating debris of the fighter she blew up and a few Perseid fighters which were still hovering there, doing nothing.  
  
She swore again, anger filling her. Reaching up while jerking her ship out of Dragan fire with the other hand, she hailed General Tumak. His terrified face filled her screen.  
  
"Oh, Captain Valentine, I'm so glad you arrived. I'm afraid things aren't going so well right now." He whined, giving her a weak smile.  
  
She glared at him. "General, for Gods sake, shut up and start firing. If you all sit there and do nothing we'll end up having Perseid soup for lunch."  
  
He gaped at her.  
  
"Move!" she screamed at him as some missiles hit her ship and she was thrown forward, the controls ripped from her hands.  
  
The General clutched his head, completely terrified, but finally turned around and ordered his fleet to start firing.  
  
Beka cut off their connection and grabbed the controls again. She turned around and dodged around a Castalian fighter which was firing at a fighter which was trying to blow up some Perseid fighters.  
  
When the Dragan fighter blew up, Beka silently cheered for the Castalians.  
  
She sped up and wove between the Castalian and Perseid fighters and kept on firing at the Dragans.  
  
Glancing at her screen, she saw a small barrage of missiles heading her way. Gritting her teeth, she jerked her ship around. But she wasn't fast enough. Some of the missiles hit the back of the Maru, violently shaking the ship and Beka was thrown forward again.  
  
"Shit." She muttered under her breath, preparing to launch another barrage of missiles against the Dragans who had hit her.  
  
Before she could turn around and fire, she saw some of the Castalian fighters moving to intercept the Dragans behind her and blew them up. Beka once again cheered for the fishmen. At least they could fight.  
  
As she dodged in and out between floating debris, Castalians and Dragans, she was glad to see a Perseid fighter flying towards a Dragan fighter, firing. Beka glanced at the fighter out of the corner of her eye. The Perseid fighter had overshot it's mark by about two lightyears. Beka turned the Maru around and lauched her prepared volley at the fighter. In seconds, it blew up.  
  
The Perseid fighter slowed down and hovered there in space for a moment, before turning around and weaving between the debris and going back towards the fighting.  
  
Finally, it was over. The remainders of the Dragan fleet had quietly snuck away through slipstream. Colonel Yau and Beka had immediately told their forces not to follow them. It wasn't worth it.  
  
Beka ran a tired hand through her sweaty hair. She had surveyed the damage to her ship. All of her systems checked out fine, except for a few leaky AP valves. Those she could fix pretty easily.  
  
But still, if the idiot chinheads would have just fired back right away, she wouldn't even have to fix anything. No, she'd be sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.  
  
But no, she had to come and risk her neck for a bunch of cowards. She gritted her teeth. Her gaze fell to the floor where her coffee mug still sat. The mug had fallen sideways and had a small crack running up its side. The coffee had spilt all over her floor.  
  
She swore again. It was all that idiot Tumak's fault. If he wouldn't have wanted to run away in the first place, she wouldn't even have to be here.  
  
As if on cue, she was hailed. Still feeling mad, she punched the screen on.  
  
General Tumak's face filled her screen. He was grinning at her broadly, but he still looked nervous.  
  
"Oh, Captain Valentine, I just wanted to thank you so much for saving us back there. We couldn't have gotten away in one piece if it wouldn't have been for you. We'd have died for sure. I was so terrified when they attacked us, but then I saw you and Colonel Yau coming, and I knew we'd be alright. Oh, thank you, Captain. Thank you."  
  
She glared at him. "General, don't thank me." She hissed between clenched teeth.  
  
He gaped at her. "But you—"  
  
"Don't thank me for helping a coward run away."  
  
He continued staring. "But if you're so against it, why did you help us in the first place?"  
  
She clenched her fist and then slowly released her fingers. She briefly closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath to control her anger.  
  
"Because Dylan always thought it was rude to stand by and watch other people making Perseid soup while somebody could have done something to prevent it. I'm that somebody. End of story."  
  
General Tumak blinked at her. "I don't understand."  
  
She gave a bitter laugh. "Been hanging around Commander Maston for too long, huh?" she glared at him. "General, I didn't help you because I wanted to help a coward run away. I helped you because Dylan would have wanted me to. Although I don't think you care very much what Dylan wants anyone to do. After all, Dylan wanted you to help fight in this war, and you're running away. A fine way to repay a debt to a dead man. Congratulations, General. Now, if you don't mind, I have a coffee spill to clean up and AP valves to fix. Have a good flight back to Sinti and for your sake, I hope you don't run into any Dragans on the way. I'm afraid my good samaritan act of the day is fulfilled." She spat, reaching up and cutting the connection.  
  
Unclicking her seatbelt, she pushed herself off her chair and picked up her cracked mug. Stepping over the coffee spill, she walked to the kitchen, still muttering annoyed curses under her breath about Perseid cowardice and impotence. Running a hand through her hair, she reached the kitchen.  
  
Putting the mug into the sink, she grabbed a rag from the counter and then stomped back to the cockpit to wipe up the mess.  
  
Kneeling down on the hard metal floor, she started wiping up the coffee. She gritted her teeth as she saw that some of the coffee had leaked into the wiring underneath the floor.  
  
Damn Perseids. 


	7. Chapter 7

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews guys, they mean the world to me. Anyway, I'm still not done (sigh). I've written 17, yes, 17 chapters so far and I'm nearly there. A couple more days and I'll be done. Anyway, I'll keep on posting them as faithfully as I can and hope that you guys still like it. I can't guarantee anything but if you stick around until the end, you're never going to watch Ouroboros the same way again. (  
  
(By the way, a thanks goes to Jen for her thanking my beta (my younger sister). She was so damn proud to hear that someone thanked her for what she was doing. She almost considers it a chore, reading through my junk and correcting all the wrong stuff I put in there. It takes her hours and the complains the whole time, but, I couldn't write a story without her).  
  
Anyway, enough of my nattering. Here are the next three chapters. And yes, Parisindy, Harper does make an appearance in here. Just read and see.  
  
  
  
Beka slowly let the tension drain from her tired hands and dropped the controls she had been clutching for the past hour.  
  
Slowly, she unclipped her seatbelt. Leaning her head back, she grimaced over the soreness in her neck muscles.  
  
Quietly, she swore.  
  
They'd lost.  
  
She opened her eyes and leaned forward and started scrolling down a screen to read her damage report.  
  
The AG field was critical but life support was stable, thankfully. The damn AP valves were busted again. Damn.  
  
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. All that damage, and they'd still lost.  
  
It had started out so well. Their planned attack of Gehena had stared early the next morning when Beka had hailed Charlemagne and yelled at him until he climbed out of bed and agreed to organize his troops. Contacting the Colonel and Commander Maston, she was surprised to find the two of them wide awake. The Colonel had only cooly nodded when Beka said that they were going in, and had said that her troops were just waiting for the signal. Commander Maston had also given her a smile, although a nervous one at that, and had stammered that his forces were ready to do whatever she told them to.  
  
Beka had clipped on her seatbelt, revved up her engines and clutched the controls, readying her ship for the attack.  
  
Just before they reached Gehena, Beka slowed down and stared at the planet. She glared. Sitting inside those damn headquarters was the man who had killed Dylan. She gritted her teeth. Quickly, she hailed Charlemagne.  
  
He smiled when he saw her. "I take it we're ready?"  
  
She nodded. He turned away from her and gave one of his subcommanders a signal. Beka saw several Nietzschean fighters slowly glide past her and start flying closer to Gehena.  
  
Beka hailed the Colonel.  
  
"Is everyone in position?" Beka asked her. Colonel Yau gave her a cool nod.  
  
Beka nodded. "In that case, let's go."  
  
Without another word, the Colonel cut off her connection with Beka and Beka saw the blips of the Castalian fighters on her screen mingling with the Sabra-Jaguar fighters as they started speeding up and flying towards the planet.  
  
The battle lasted for over an hour. Beka's hands had started to cramp up after twenty minutes of tightly clutching the controls and jerking her ship out of enemy fire and dodging in between the ships of her allies.  
  
The Dragans sent up a fleet as soon as they saw them approaching. At first, they had had the element of surprise on their side, but the Dragans quickly called for reinforcements. When Beka glimpsed the additional Dragan fighters leaving slipstream and closing in on Gehena, she swore. She swore again when she saw several Castalian fighters expoding into brilliant flashes of light as the new fighters attacked them from behind. Beka quickly sent off another volley of missiles towards a cluster of Dragan fighters which were firing on a bunch of Sabra-Jaguar fighters.  
  
Seeing one of her fighters taking a hit from behind, she quickly jerked her ship out of the way as the ship carrerred out of control and went hurling past her.  
  
Breathing hard, she stared down at her viewscreen. More Dragan fighters were showing up and they were winning.  
  
Their left flank was almost entirely dimished. Beka swore again and quickly dodged away from a volley of missiles which went flying past her.  
  
Damn, they were losing.  
  
A beep sounded. Reaching up, she turned on her screen.  
  
Charlemagne gave her a strained smile. "Beka, it appears we're losing."  
  
"Yeah, no shit." She yelled up at him as some missiles hit her ship and violently shook her ship. Beka smacked her head on the back of her seat. She winced.  
  
"I suggest you call in our back up!" Charlemagne yelled at her as he gripped the chair he was sitting in as his ship was hit too.  
  
Beka quickly cut their connection and hailed Commander Maston.  
  
His face blinked on above her. He looked at her, fear in his eyes but patiently waited for her orders.  
  
"Commander! Now! Bring up the center and then fan out. Blow as many of the bastards to pieces as you can!"  
  
He gave her a nod. "Right away, Captain."  
  
She turned off her com and dove back into the battle. Glancing at her screen, she saw the Mobius fighters quickly moving forward and surprise the Dragans from behind. For a split moment, it looked like they had a chance, but then more Dragans came flooding out from slipstream.  
  
Beka swore again.  
  
"Why are there so many of you bastards?" she yelled at her viewscreen as her ship was hit again.  
  
Glaring, she jerked her ship around and started wildly firing at the assholes who had hit her. Only one of her missiles hit their mark and the fighters only jerked violently, but didn't explode.  
  
Glaring at it, Beka readied another barrage and launched it at the fighter again. This time, she hit it. It exploded, pieces of metal flying through space as the bright explosion lit up the darkness around it.  
  
Beka sighed and ran a weary hand through her hair. After another thirty minutes of the massacre, Charlemagne had ordered everyone to retreat.  
  
They picked up the broken remainders of their fleet and quietly slunk back into slipstream.  
  
Some of their fighters had been so badly damaged that Beka was forced to latch their navigation control to hers and drag them through slipstream with her.  
  
Finally, when they were safely hidden away in an asteriod field, everyone cut their engines and sat back to lick their wounds.  
  
Beka was certainly licking hers. She closed her eyes, not even wanting to think about the damn AP valves she had to fix again. She briefly opened her eyes and saw that she was leaking anti-protons again.  
  
"Shit." She sighed.  
  
As if on cue, someone hailed her. Listlessly, she reached up and turned on her screen.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
The Colonel's face appeared above her. She briefly glanced over Beka.  
  
"You're not injured, I persume?"  
  
Beka shook her head and grimaced as she slowly raised herself up. Slouching hurt her back.  
  
"You, Colonel?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Good." Beka sighed. "What about your fighters?"  
  
"Heavily damaged, but nothing that can't be fixed. I saw you take quite a few heavy hits. I assume the Maru has suffered a lot of damage."  
  
Beka shook her head. "It's not that bad. Give me a day and this wreck will be as good as new."  
  
The Colonel raised an eyebrow. "Captain, that wreck of yours will never be in a state to be called new."  
  
Beka gave her a small smile. "Oh, go eat sushi." She retorted to the Colonel.  
  
The Colonel blinked at her, but Beka swore that a small smile flickered across her cold face. But in an instant, that impassive mask was back.  
  
"I wish you luck with your repairs."  
  
"Same to you."  
  
With a nod, the Colonel cut their connection.  
  
Beka yawned and stretched. God, she just wanted to lie here and do nothing. She was so not in the mood to get up and fix her ship.  
  
Another beep interupted her thoughts. She reached up and turned on her screen.  
  
The instant she saw the figure standing in her viewscreen, smiling widely at her, she stiffened and sat up straight. She raised her chin, anger flooding into her eyes.  
  
Admiral Cuatemoc gave a quiet chuckle when he saw her sudden anger. Although there was an amused smile on his face, his eyes were glaring at her.  
  
She returned his glare.  
  
"So, Captain Valentine, gone to lick your wounds?"  
  
She glared up at him and didn't answer.  
  
He laughed again, in that quiet irritating way of his. "You really thought that you and that pathetic cavalry of yours could blow up our headquarters? Sweet, really sweet. But stupid too. What did you think we'd do? Stand by and let you destroy us? Not likely, my dear." He laughed again.  
  
She glared, hating him. "If all you hailed me for was to rub my nose into your little victory, then you can slink back into that little office of yours because that job's done."  
  
He smiled. "My job is only done when you surrender your forces to me, Beka."  
  
"In that case, prepare to put in a lot of overtime and weekends too. And don't be too upset if we steal some of your paycheques." She snarled. Without giving him time to retort an answer, she switched off her screen.  
  
Pushing herself out of her chair with renewed energy, she marched out of the cockpit towards the engine room.  
  
She had some AP valves to fix.  
  
Beka clicked her seatbelt shut and reached forward to pick up her controls. Flipping the switch beside her chair, she revved up her engines, feeling her ship power up and vibrate beneath her.  
  
She smiled and quickly patted her armrest.  
  
"It's okay, baby. We won't be going for long. We just gotta kick some Dragan ass for a couple of minutes, and then leave." She yawned. Damn she needed some coffee. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and forced herself to concentrate.  
  
She had to really concentrate this time. Not only to make sure she didn't hit any of their own fighters, but that she timed everything perfectly.  
  
It was such a perfect plan. Charlemagne and her had come up with the idea, but the Colonel was the one who had put the idea into their heads in the first place.  
  
She had hailed Beka three days ago and casually commented about a Dragan division hiding in a nearby asteriod field, completing repairs. She had raised her eyebrows and had marvelled at the coincidence that their forces were only two jumps away from them.  
  
Beka had grinned at her and then quickly hailed Charlemagne. Over the next hour and after lots of arguing, coffee drinking and twenty minuts of Charlemagne whining over Elsbett teaching him how to change diapers and Beka finally cutting that off with an irritated glare, they had finally come up with a plan.  
  
Their entire fleet would carefully sneak up on the Dragan fleet, divided into smaller divisions and hiding behind asteriods. After launching their attack and surprising the Dragans, they would polish those off. Then, Beka knew that the Admiral would send more reinforcements, so she would position Commander Maston's forces by the slipstream portals, ready to intercept those incoming ships.  
  
It was the perfect plan.  
  
Beka cracked her knuckles and stretched out her stiff neck muscles.  
  
She glanced up at the time. Twenty minutes to ten. Yup, it was time to head out.  
  
As if on cue, she saw several of the fighters floating around her firing up their engines and slowly start to drift towards the slipstream portal.  
  
Leaning back and giving her ship's armrest one more pat, she shoved the controls further and entered slipstream.  
  
Beka was slightly thrown forward as her ship exited the final slipstream jump.  
  
She slowed down and punched on her navigation screen. More and more green blips were popping out of slipstream behind her, and she saw the larger blips of the Sunrise and the Colonel's ship floating amongst them.  
  
She reached up and hailed the Colonel. She drummed her fingers of her armrest, waiting for the Colonel to answer.  
  
Right away, the image of the dark haired Colonel popped up on the screen. For the first time in her life Beka realized how much the Colonel's hair reminded her of Rommie's. The same bangs, the same shoulder length straight brown hair. Hair that was so dark it was nearly black.  
  
But Rommie had had blue bangs. Beka smiled as she imagined asking the Colonel what she would think about blue bangs.  
  
She'd probably raise those eyebrows of hers and say, in that nononsense way of hers that blue hair was unbecoming for an airbreather.  
  
"Captain, you hailed me?" The Colonel's impatient voice cut into her thoughts. Beka shook her head and forced herself to concentrate again. As she glanced up at the woman staring down at her, Beka swore she was frowning. But with that rigged forehead, it was hard to tell when she was frowning or just staring—.  
  
Come on, Valentine! Concentrate. She sat up straighter, and the no-nonsense attitude which the Colonel projected flowed into Beka.  
  
It was time to be strong again. Time to fight. This wasn't the time to joke and laugh and take things easy. No.  
  
She set her jaw and raised her chin. It was fighting time.  
  
"I just wanted to see if you were ready." Beka said.  
  
The Colonel nodded, glancing down at her own nagivation screen. "The remainders of my fleet have just left slipstream and I believe Commander Maston's fleet has just arrived as well."  
  
Beka nodded. "Alright then, let's go. Nice and slow until we're in, then—"  
  
"We wait for the signal." The Colonel's cool voice finished her sentence. Beka gave her a firm nod and then cut off her connection.  
  
Slowly, she started drifting through space, watching the large asteriods of the field growing larger before her.  
  
Small chunks of rock floated past her and she quietly wove among them. As she went deeper into the field, the rocks started becoming larger. As she passed one of them, she couldn't even see the top of it through her windshield.  
  
She glanced down at her navigation screen. She spied the Dragan fleet floating behind the large asteriod looming just ahead of her.  
  
Slowing down even more, she carefully steered her ship towards the asteriod. Once she reached it, she pulled the controls back and remained quietly hovering in space.  
  
She could see the edge of the asteriod from where she was. She suddenly bit her lip. What if one of the Dragans decided to take a little field trip and come around the asteroid? Oh, well. Looking at the quiet fighters which had drifted up around her and were hoving in space behind the large asteriod, she knew that if anything came around that asteriod side it would be blown up in seconds.  
  
Watching her navigation screen, she saw the Sunrise hovering behind another asteriod close to her own with Sabra-Jaguar fighters floating around it. Further away, Beka saw Colonel Yau's ship slowing down amid her fighters as they approached their own asteriod.  
  
Looking around, Beka saw Commander Maston's forces hanging back, just like she had told them to.  
  
She hailed the Commander. There was still a little time left.  
  
His face appeared on her viewscreen. She could see his nervousness and saw that tight clenching in his jaw which she knew meant he was terrified. But the rest of his face was calm and orderly.  
  
"You all arrived in one piece, I see." She said.  
  
He nodded, giving her a strained smile. "I thought we might have lost a couple in the slipstream, but the pilots have really improved in their flying over the past while."  
  
Beka nodded. Good. If they didn't know how to fight properly, at least they knew how to run away properly. That was still something.  
  
"So, Commander, you know what to—"  
  
"We'll move up to the portals as soon as you and the rest of the fleet have moved out and monitor them until we see any incoming ships. Asides from that, we're waiting for your command."  
  
Beka gave him a tense nod. She would have smiled, but they were in the middle of a war. There was no time for laughter and for smiles. Those would come later.  
  
He smiled at her. "Good luck, Captain."  
  
She nodded, but was too tense and nervous to say it back. She cut off her connection and went back to clutching her controls and nervously flexing her fingers.  
  
Everything was so eerily quiet. The only noise coming from her ship was the steady whiring of the engines. Other than that, her ship was silent.  
  
The ships floating around her were the same. Beka found it slightly unsettling. Oh well, in a couple of minutes the silence would be torn apart and the sounds of a battle would flood the asteriod field.  
  
She glanced up at the time again and nearly started drumming her fingers again. Why the hell wasn't Charlemagne giving the signal yet? She gritted her teeth.  
  
The only reason Charlemagne was doing it was because his ship was in between Beka's and the Colonel's. Hailing both of them at the same time was easier.  
  
Beka forced herself to take a deep breath.  
  
She was about to reach up to massage her aching temples which were madly crying out for caffeine, but then she saw it.  
  
The red blinking light coming from the green blip on her screen which was the Sunrise.  
  
That was the signal.  
  
All around her, the fighters started revving up. Beka turned her ship and shoved her controls forward, shooting around the side of the asteriod. Leaning back and keeping her eyes glued onto the asteriod she was nearly done passing, she took another deep breath.  
  
As the hundreds of fighters beside her also sped up and shot around the asteriod with her, they all hurled themselves past the enormous asteriod, and came upon the quietly floating fighters of the Dragan division.  
  
Not slowing down, Beka flew towards them. With her fingers, she readied a volley of missiles, and then pressed the red button and let them go.  
  
With satisfaction, she watched as two Dragan fighters exploded. Beside her, the Castalian fighter which had remained by her side during their flight also fired at the floating ships which were only slowly starting to move.  
  
Beka smiled grimly as she imagined the mad panic which the Dragans on those ships would be feelings. Running towards their stations, yelling for someone to start the engines and fire.  
  
Well, they could sure as well try. She pressed the button again and watched as another ship exploded in a bright glare of fire and exploding metal and wires. She smiled. They could try, but she'd be damned if she gave them the chance.  
  
Beka nearly felt like laughing as she slowly started flexing her tired hands which had been clutching the controls like crazy.  
  
Looking at the sea of twisted ships, sparking wires and empty, black hulls which littered the entire field, she couldn't help but smile.  
  
Saying that they had surprised the Dragans would be an understatement. In under half an hour, they had brutally ambushed the fleet, not even giving them a chance.  
  
Dodging between them, Beka found the only worry in her head being not about being hit, but about not hitting the many dead ships which were floating aimlessly past her.  
  
She smiled. Victory tasted sweet. So damn sweet. Oh, she couldn't wait to see the Admiral's face. She'd laugh at him. Laugh as she had never laughed before.  
  
She leaned back and lazily looked at the rest of her fleet listlessly floating among the debris, obviously very proud of themselves.  
  
She was about to get up to get herself a cup of coffee, when a beeping sound started coming from her navigation screen.  
  
Frowing, Beka leaned forward and stared at the screen.  
  
Her eyes widened in shock and surprise as the screen came into focus in front of her. Hundreds of tiny green ships were pouring out of slipstream and heading straight for them.  
  
What was even worse was that they all had Drago-Katzov markings.  
  
"Shit." Beka cried, grabbing her controls. She yelled for her ship to hail Charlemagne. Oh, my God, the Dragans were here!  
  
Seconds later, Charlemagne's triumphant, grinning face appeared on her screen. His grin widened when he saw her.  
  
"Beka! Great to see you! Victory really does taste sweet doesn't it?"  
  
Beka cut him off, panic seeping into her. "Idiot! Look on your screen! The Dragans just arrived with reinforcements. Stop grinning and fire, idiot! Fire!" she screamed.  
  
Abruptly, the smile slid off his face as he turned around to look at his screen. When he saw the green blips pouring out of it, his eyes widened.  
  
"Shit!" he swore, running a nervous hand through his hair. It was the first time Beka had heard him swear, but the thought disappeared as soon as it had come. The Dragans were here!  
  
Charlemagne yelled at someone to start firing, and then turned back to Beka.  
  
"How are Commander Maston's forces doing?"  
  
Beka's nervous eyes quickly glanced over her screen. Mobius fighters were disappearing off her screen like flies.  
  
She cut off her connection with Charlemagne and hailed the Commander.  
  
His terrified face appeared in front of her. That nervous clench was in his jaws, along with a nervous twitch in his cheeks. He was truly terrified.  
  
"Captain! The Dragans are ambushing us! There's too many of them! We can't hold them off. What should I do?" His terrified voice yelled over to her.  
  
"Retreat!" she yelled at him, as she tore her ship around and started hurling through space towards the oncoming ships. "Retreat behind the asteriod and wait until I call you!"  
  
She screamed and then cut off connections.  
  
She bit her lip as she saw more blips disappear from her screen. She readied a volley and sent it flying at the advancing fighters.  
  
Only two of her missiles hit and only managed to shake the fighters they hit. Beka readied another volley.  
  
Around her, the rest of her fleet was slowly starting to realize what was going on. Without waiting for any orders, they spun aroun and started shooting towards the oncoming fighters, firing at them wildly.  
  
Beka continued firing, watching a fighter successfully explode infront of her. Dodging around the burning debris, she kept on going, dodging around firing Sabra-Jaguar and Castalian fighters.  
  
She spied the Sunrise a little way off, pumping out missile barrage after missile barrage at the Dragan fighters.  
  
More of their fighters were moving forward and firing.  
  
Beka fired another volley while she glanced down at her screen again. More and more of her blips were blinking out of existence, while more and more blips came pouring out of slipstream.  
  
Shit, she thought as she dodged around the floating remains of a Castalian fighters.  
  
She found herself breathing hard and sweat pouring down her face as she fired again and again.  
  
Some missiles hit the Maru and the entire ship shook.  
  
Before she could turn around, she was hit again. This time, a siren started blaring.  
  
Shit, she thought again. She fired, but in her haste, missed the Dragan fighters by 5 lightyears.  
  
This wasn't working.  
  
Reaching up, she quickly hailed the Commander.  
  
"Commander! Now! Get as many as you can around the portal and then move closer to us and finish off any that you can get on your screen!" she yelled up at him when his face appeared before her.  
  
Despite the nervous clench in his jaw and that twitching in his cheek, he gave her a calm nod and yelled at his men to advance.  
  
Beka went back to firing. Firing and dodging. Firing and dodging and getting hit. She swore again as she was hit by another barrage. A light started blinking above her, telling her that she was leaking antiprotons.  
  
She narrowed her eyes at the Dragan fighters in front of her. Pressing the red button, she sent off another set of missiles and watched with satisfaction as they exploded.  
  
If they were going to make her leak anti-protons, she'd make them pay for it.  
  
Before she could get a smile on her face, she was hit again.  
  
And again.  
  
Forgetting all about firing, she sped up and started madly dodging between the broken remains of their fleet, trying to get away from the Dragans.  
  
She stared at her screen. Countless of her green blips kept on blinking out of existence, becoming nothing more than empty, black hulls which she had to dodge around. And more and more Dragans kept on coming out of slipstream.  
  
Another barrage hit her. She was thrown forward and the controls were nearly ripped from her hands.  
  
She glanced at the screen again. This was insane. They had to retreat.  
  
Reaching up despite the violent shaking of her crumbling ship, she hailed the Colonel.  
  
"Colonel!" she yelled through the screeching of her siren. "We don't stand a chance anymore, we have to retreat!"  
  
"Where?" the Colonel yelled back at her, her face still calm and collected.  
  
"I don't know! Anywhere! But we can't stay here! They'll slaughter us!" Beka screamed.  
  
The Colonel nodded and glanced at her screen.  
  
"More ships just exited slipstream, Captain."  
  
Beka's eyes widened as she struggled to keep a firm hold on the controls. "We've got to retreat, Colonel! Now!"  
  
"No. Wait a second, Captain." The Colonel said quickly, her eyes flickering across the screen. "The ships that just arrived, they aren't Nietzschean fighters." She raised her eyes up to Beka's, surprise within them. "They're Perseids."  
  
"What?" Beka screamed up at her as her ship was rocked again.  
  
"They're Perseids!" The Colonel yelled back, raising her voice.  
  
Madly, Beka clawed through the air until she reached the screen. Cutting off her connection with the Colonel, she hailed the General.  
  
His terrified face filled her screen, but a wide smile crossed his face when he saw her.  
  
"Oh, Captain, I'm so glad to see you. I—"  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" she yelled up at him. The blaring of the siren was nearly drowning out her words.  
  
He grinned. "Well, I—"  
  
"On second thought, General, I don't give a damn why you're here. Just start firing. Now!"  
  
"Now?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "But we only just—"  
  
"Now, General! Or get the hell out of here!" she yelled, clutching her controls as she was thrown forward again. With her thumb, she flicked the button again and sent off another volley without really looking where it was going.  
  
She wasn't surprised when they went hurling through empty space and slowly burnt out amid the floating remains of their fleet.  
  
Glancing up at the General, she screamed up at him so loudly she thought the screen would crack.  
  
"Now, General! Fire!"  
  
Ten minutes later, the blips on Beka's screen looked just like they had looked ten minutes ago.  
  
They were losing. Horribly. And the Dragans were ambushing them.  
  
She knew that they couldn't last much longer. Never mind the fleet, her ship couldn't last much longer.  
  
With a shaking hand, she reached up and hailed Charlemagne.  
  
When his nervous, tense and sweat streaked face greeted her, Beka knew that they were whipped.  
  
"Charlemagne, we've got to retreat." She yelled through the siren. Glancing down, she saw a barrage of missiles heading towards her mangled ship.  
  
Jerking her controls around, she barely managed to force her crumbled ship out of the way.  
  
He gave her a nod. "I'll tell the fleet to run."  
  
"Tell them to run like hell. Anywhere they want, just tell them to run."  
  
He nodded and disappeared off her screen.  
  
Beka shoved her controls forward and her ship groaned and shook as it wearily struggled to speed up.  
  
Dodging the debris and torn apart ship fragments and floating empty hulls lying scattered around her, she was quietly praying for her ship to reach the portal in one piece.  
  
She could see the portal coming closer and closer. Her ship was shaking so badly she thought it would come apart any moment.  
  
She bit her lip. "Come on, come on, baby. You can do it." She muttered between a clenched jaw as she went shooting towards the portal.  
  
All around her, the remainders of the fleet were running. Hurling towards the portals at insane speeds, nobody was firing anymore, everybody just wanted to get away.  
  
Some of the fighters had been so badly damaged that they only managed to crawl towards the portals, the ships shaking from the immense effort it took for them just to move at all.  
  
Some of the ships which were in better shape whipped back around and latched the battered ships navigation controls to their own and then went hurling towards the portals, towing the other ships behind them.  
  
From all over the place, Beka saw fighters and destroyers shooting towards the portals, fleeing as fast as they could.  
  
Beka pressed her controls further, but her ship only shuddered in response and refused to go faster.  
  
She swore. Damn it! Hurry up! Hurry up! The Dragans were still firing.  
  
She could see the portal in front of her. Only a couple more kilometers and she'd be there. She'd be free from the missiles, from the hundreds of Dragans descending onto her ship, waiting for the slaughter to finish.  
  
Suddenly, a blinking light beside her went on. She glanced at it and then swore louder than she had all day. Her slipstream drive was broken. Now of all times, it was broken.  
  
She reached forward and turned on her distress beacon.  
  
While she nervously drummed her fingers, her eyes flickering across the screen, she quietly prayed for someone to help her.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Dragan fighter starting to fire on her.  
  
Madly, she tried forcing her battered ship out of the way. The Maru crawled over a couple of meters.  
  
"Shit! No, no, no!" she screamed, watching as the missiles came closer and closer to her.  
  
Suddenly, she saw Colonel Yau's ship come hurling towards her. Without contacting her, the Colonel quickly latched the Maru's navigation controls to her own. Shooting forward, Beka was yanked upwards by the Colonel's ship just in time. The missiles hurled past her, barely skimming the bottom of her ship.  
  
She briefly gave a sigh of relief. Now all they had to do was run away.  
  
She crossed her fingers, praying that the Colonel's attachment to her ship wouldn't break.  
  
The Colonel went dodging between their fleeing forces, hurling towards the slipstream portal.  
  
Without pausing, both ships were pulled into slipstream and Beka was pulled along behind the Colonel.  
  
In the back of her terrified, nervous mind, Beka realized that for the first time in her life she was going through slipstream while sitting in the cockpit but she wasn't flying.  
  
But the only coherent thought in her head was still: Run, run, keep on running! The Dragans were coming!  
  
They kept on hurling through slipstream until the Colonel yanked both of their ships over to an exit.  
  
Seconds later, they exited the slipstream.  
  
The Colonel quietly cut her link to the Maru and both ships floated through space.  
  
Once more, it was eerily quiet around them. All sounds of the battle, the exploding ships, the beeps as the blips on her screen disappeared, the hissing of missiles hurling through space, they were all gone.  
  
It was quiet.  
  
Beka slowly forced her cramped hands to release her controls. Slowly, she leaned her aching head back, grimacing over her sore neck muscles, and drew in a deep, shaky breath.  
  
God, they had made it. They had actually made it.  
  
Beka didn't think about the fact that all systems on her ship were nearly down and that the siren was still blaring above her head. She didn't think about the fact that their entire fleet was scattered across the entire galaxy as a result of everybody having fled to different slipstream portals.  
  
All she thought about was that they had made it. They had actually made it.  
  
They had been massacred and their ships had been battered, but they had made it.  
  
Beka slowly closed her eyes and dropped her aching hands into her lap.  
  
Her mangled ship slowly drifted through space, the siren still blaring through it's empty corridors.  
  
But they had made it. 


	8. Chapter 8

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 8  
  
Beka was still listlessly sitting in her chair, staring out into black space. The siren had exhausted itself five minutes ago and had turned itself off. Beka had forgotten it was even there.  
  
God, everything was such a mess. Her ship was a mess, her forces were a mess.  
  
She was a mess.  
  
She continued staring out of her cracked windsheild. She squinted and saw some Mobius fighters emerging from slipstream infront of them. Well, that was at least some of her fleet back together. She grimaced when she thought about having to look through twenty systems for their lost and crippled ships.  
  
Just then, a small beep interupted her thoughts. Without looking up and stopping her continuous stare into black space, she reached up and turned on her screen.  
  
She could feel the person on the viewscreen looking down at her, a smile on their lips. Beka didn't look up.  
  
Not even when she heard a chuckle, that grating, cool laugh that she despised.  
  
Not even when she heard him sigh. "Well, Captain Valentine, I wouldn't try that again, if I were you. It seems your little 'surprise' attack had more in store for you than it did for us. Spare me the headache and you the casualties, Captain, and don't attempt that again."  
  
Without a word, Beka stared out of her windsheild, watching the crippled Mobius fighters limping towards her.  
  
Slowly, she reached down and grabbed a loss chunk of a pipe which had broken off during the attack. Not looking up at her screen and not saying a word, she threw it as hard as she could at the screen.  
  
She heard the cracking of glass, and static started to sound from the screen as the Admiral's image slowly fizzled out.  
  
The screen went blank, the only evidence from his presence being a large crack across her viewscreen. Beka didn't notice it. She was still staring out into space.  
  
* * * * * (a week later) * * * * *  
  
Beka was sitting in the kitchen, poking around in her spaghetti with her fork. She was chewing thoughtfully. Over the past week every second of her day was filled with repairing her ship and checking on the rest of her fleet. She hadn't had a moment of spare time.  
  
It had taken five days until the entire fleet was back together. The Sabra- Jaguar Pride, lead by the Sunrise, which was laborously towing more than half of the fighters, slowly drifted towards them from where they had landed, six jumps away from them. It had taken them three days of slow drifting to reach them. The Perseid ships were the next to find them. They had been the least damaged out of all of them and had cheerfully flown towards them, offering their enthusiastic assistance to the rest of the fleet whose ships were being held together by sheer will and long metal spikes.  
  
The Commander's forces had been the last to find them. Beka and the Colonel hadn't worried about it for the first couple of days, since both of them knew the fighters were all heavily damaged and couldn't travel very fast lest they be torn in half, but after five days of no Mobius forces showing up on their navigation screen no matter how constantly and carefully they scanned, they started to get worried. Beka had right away said she'd go and look for them, but the Colonel had given her a cool fish stare and had said if Beka tried to even move her poor ship that it would come apart at the seams. So, while Beka stayed behind and yelled and screamed at her broken ship, the Colonel flew off to look for the remainders of their fleet.  
  
She returned hours later, dragging behind her the entire division of Mobius fighters. Beka nearly cried when she saw them. All of the ships were so badly crumbled and crippled that it was a miracle they moved at all. They couldn't even detach themselves from the Colonel's wake once she cut them away from her. Even their brakes didn't work. When the Colonel slowed down, she had to quickly yank her ship out of the way, lest the momentum cause some of the battered ships to ram into her. Right away, a very tired and bedraggled looking Commander Maston contacted Beka. He'd smiled apologetically and said he was very sorry for the delay, but the system in which they landed had so many slipstream portals that they couldn't figure out which to use, so they decided to try all of them one by one. By the end, nearly none of the exhausted slipstream drives of the ships were working, and the Commander didn't know how to latch their navigation controls onto his own ship, so he'd turned on his distress beacon (the only real military emergency measure he knew) and decided to wait until someone stumbled by them. He said that, despite the fact that he and his men were all hanging in the middle of nowhere, were on battered and crippled ships and none of them had a clue as to where they were, all of his men had remained surprisingly cheery and had been very content with sitting and playing cards until someone found them. Beka had stared at him, and then quietly wished him luck with his repairs.  
  
Beka twisted some strands of the spaghetti around her fork. Now there was just one loss end left.  
  
Putting her fork down, she reached over and turned on the small screen which was in the kitchen beside the sink. "Maru, please hail the General for me."  
  
She waited, tapping her foot and ignoring her cooling dinner until finally, the General's grinning, bedraggled looking face appeared on her screen.  
  
"Oh, Captain Valentine! I'm so glad to see you! My, my we took quite a beating back there, didn't we? Thought we wouldn't get away for a minute. But we did! My, that must have been the best retreat I've ever seen! Not that I've seen so many, of course, but—"  
  
Beka sharply interupted him. "General, what are you doing here?" she asked, point blank.  
  
He blinked and gaped at her. "Why, Captain, you were the one who hailed me."  
  
"No. I mean, why are you here, when, just a few months ago, I risked my neck trying to get you home in one piece? I mean, the least you could have done is keep on going and sit on your cowardly ass on Sinti and not be another thorn in my side."  
  
He licked his dry lips and stared at her, a pleading frown on his face. "Well, Captain Valentine, you see, the most remarkable thing happened on my way back to Sinti."  
  
She crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."  
  
He gave her a wobbly grin and continued. "I was sitting there, thinking and thinking about what I was doing. Then, I don't know where it came from, but I realized I couldn't leave. You see, Captain, you risked your life to save me, and I repaid you by running away. That's no way to repay a debt, if there ever was one. So, finding myself owing debts to not only Dylan, but also to you, I decided the only good way to pay those back was by coming back here and fighting."  
  
Beka stared at him. "General, don't get me wrong, we need your firepower. Now more than ever. But if your heart isn't going to be in this, then I'd rather keep on going on my own."  
  
He nodded firmly. "Captain, where my debts and my loyalties are concerned, my heart is already there. I can promise you that. I will not abandon you. Never again. You can depend on me."  
  
Beka nearly smiled. This coming from the most cowardly Perseid ever to have flown in outer space.  
  
But then she nearly felt like crying. She'd found another player. She'd found another person whom she could depend on.  
  
Slowly, her optimism returned to her. They could do this. They could do this. They could kick some major Dragan ass.  
  
Beka glanced up at the General. "Well, General, if you've really decided whose side you're on, I suggest starting to lend your assistance to some of the Commander's forces. They're in bad shape."  
  
With a firm nod and a shaky smile, the General faded off her viewscreen.  
  
Taking her eyes off the blank screen, Beka returned to poking around in her spaghetti. It had grown cold, but she hadn't noticed.  
  
* * * * * (6 months later) * * * * *  
  
Swirling her coffee around her cup, Beka glared at the large assortment of dirty dishes and glasses which lay in a heap in her sink.  
  
God damn she didn't feel like cleaning them.  
  
But she had to.  
  
Remembering Rev's words from long ago, she knew that living a normal life was a big part of healing.  
  
She drew in a deep breath. It felt so good to breath. She slowly took a sip of her coffee.  
  
She was healing.  
  
She could feel it.  
  
She could think about Trance and Rev now without missing them so badly that her heart nearly broke. She knew that they were still out there somewhere, living their lives. Keeping promises.  
  
She could think about Rommie too. She'd slowly learned to let her friend go. She'd realized that Rommie had died just the way she wanted to, and that it was okay for her to think about her without crying.  
  
Thinking about Dylan was getting better too. Knowing she was still fighting for him, keeping her promises to him, she could think about him too without crying.  
  
Yup, she was slowly healing.  
  
She took another sip of her coffee.  
  
There were two people she refused to think about. Two people whose pain and anger would never heal within her heart.  
  
She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.  
  
She could never let go of Harper. Never. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't let go. That raw guilt still dug into her whenever she thought about him. That little voice would hiss at her from the back of her mind that she had abandoned him. That Harper had never abandoned her. That she'd broken her promise to him.  
  
She violently shook her head. She forced herself to stop thinking about Harper. The grief and guilt which his memories always came with were too much for her to take.  
  
And Tyr, she swallowed hard. Thoughts about him never even crossed her mind. She didn't let them.  
  
Rage and raw anger at what he had done still dug through her heart like dull knives. She'd tried reasoning with herself countless times that she had to somehow get past her anger, but she couldn't. No matter what she tried. She couldn't let go of her anger.  
  
Those were her two burdens which she dragged around with her all day. And all night. No matter how much time went by, she'd carry them always.  
  
The inability to let go of her guilt at Harper's death, and the inability to let go of her anger at Tyr.  
  
She slowly put her cup down on the counter.  
  
She didn't feel like drinking it anymore.  
  
The quiet beep of an incoming hail carried through the electrical whine and the sparks flying around the pipes on which Beka was soldering leaks.  
  
At first Beka didn't hear the hail, but when it didn't stop, she muttered a curse, turned off her soldering wand and shoved up her goggles.  
  
Brushing her grease streaked hair out of her eyes, she reached over and turned on her screen.  
  
The Colonel's face instantly flickered onto the screen.  
  
"Colonel, what's wrong?" Beka asked, the soldering wand dangling from her hands.  
  
The Colonel didn't answer for a moment, just continued giving her that usual impassive, blank stare.  
  
Beka shifted uncomfortable. Crouching on the floor wasn't the least bit comfortable. She started to get irritated when the Colonel didn't answer her, but just kept on staring at her.  
  
Beka muttered another curse under her breath.  
  
"Colonel, if you don't mind, I'm kinda in the middle of something here, so if you can't spit out whatever you wanted to say, you can kindly leave me in peace and get back to me later when you've found your voice again." With that, Beka turned away from her, shaking her head in annoyance. Damn irritating woman.  
  
Always so cool and with an ever ready icy comment on her lips, but the only times when she got Beka riled up, she didn't say a word.  
  
Beka was about to lower her goggles again and return to fixing her pipes, when the Colonel's quiet voice carried over to her.  
  
"I'm afraid I have some bad news."  
  
Beka's hands froze on the rims of her goggles. Bad news. A cold shudder ran down her back. She hated bad news. Especially in a war. She hated bad news.  
  
She twisted around on her heels and looked at the Colonel.  
  
"What bad news?"  
  
The Colonel continued staring at her, no expression crossing her face or flickering within her eyes. Beka found it slightly unnerving despite the fact that she had slowly grown used to it.  
  
"Captain, you remember that small division of Dragan fighters which Archduke Bolivar went to attack early this morning?"  
  
Beka nodded, frowning. Of course she knew. She'd insisted that a few Castalian fighters accompany them, but Charlemagne had waved her worries aside and smiled and said that there were only a handful of Dragans. When her frown hadn't eased up, Charlemagne had grinned at her playfully and promised to not only finish off the bastards in twenty minutes, but to also bring back a handful of spare parts from the blown up ships for the Maru. He'd said it would be an early Christmas present. Beka had finally, although reluctantly, let him go, but not before making him swear to contact her as soon as there was a problem. He'd laughed and waved it off, saying he was simply going Christmas shopping and that he'd be back before she knew it.  
  
Beka's eyes stared at the Colonel's impassive face before slowly nodding. "Of course I do. He left a couple of hours ago."  
  
She got no response from the Castalian woman staring at her from the viewscreen.  
  
A small, horrible feeling started erupting at the pit of her stomach. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.  
  
"Colonel?" Beka asked, trying to mask the fear which that awful feeling was bringing into her.  
  
The Colonel swallowed, hard, before blinking and finally finding her voice.  
  
"That small division of Dragan fighters which we thought were alone weren't alone. They were sitting there not to complete repairs but to wait for the new reinforcements which were coming in from Enga's Redoubt."  
  
A slow, numbing feeling started growing in Beka's stomach.  
  
"By the time the Archduke and his small division of fighters arrived, the reinforcements had arrived as well. It took the Dragans less than ten minutes to destroy our division."  
  
Beka managed to find her voice. "How badly did they destroy the ships?" she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper.  
  
The Colonel clenched her jaw and swallowed again, but found the strength to answer her.  
  
"There were over a hundred Dragan fighters against the fifteen ships which the Archduke took with him. The Dragans completely vaporized all of them. They didn't even leave the hulls behind. They kept on shooting at the debris until only small pieces of metal were floating around."  
  
That numbing feeling had nearly engulfed Beka. She stared at the Colonel, shock and disbelief in her eyes. She was clutching the soldering wand so hard she thought she might break it.  
  
She swallowed hard, feeling all the blood drain from her face. "And the Sunrise?" she whispered.  
  
The Colonel's impassive, blank face nearly broke as pain briefly flickered across it.  
  
"It's remains are completely indistinguishable from the debris of the other ships. Everything and everyone on board was completely vaporized. Not even a years worth of lab work could pick the Sunrise's pieces of debris out of the rest."  
  
For a second, sick fear clutched at Beka's heart. "Oh, my God, Colonel, Elsbett and Alaric, and all the others were on there too!"  
  
The Colonel briefly shook her head. "No. The Archduke dropped them off at home the day before yesterday. They're safe. But I'm afraid, the same thing doesn't apply to the Archduke." She clenched her jaw as she stared at Beka, who was still numb with shock and pain. A flicker of pain erupted in the Colonel's cool brown eyes. "Captain, would you be able to contact the Archdutchess and inform her of her husband's death?"  
  
Beka numbly nodded. She knew that the Colonel thought of her as the stronger out of the two of them when it came to stuff like this.  
  
The Colonel nodded faintly and then dropped her gaze.  
  
Both of them were silent, remembering the man with whom they had only been speaking with a few hours ago. Now, he was dead.  
  
The Colonel raised her head and stared at Beka, the pain plainly visible in her eyes now.  
  
"Captain, we don't even have his remains to give to his family." She whispered.  
  
Beka nodded. He'd been such a great man. Such a great, rare man. Just like Dylan. Just like Harper.  
  
She remembered the last thing he had said to her. Grinning and smiling in that overly polite, always opimistic way, he'd playfully told her not to worry and that he was just going Christmas shopping.  
  
Christmas shopping.  
  
And now they didn't even have his remains to return to his family.  
  
The soldering wand slid from her numb fingers and silent, hot tears started flowing down Beka's cheeks.  
  
She didn't notice.  
  
* * * * * (two weeks later) * * * * *  
  
Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar slowly walked into her livingroom. She tried to keep her jaw set and keep her back straight. She forced herself to remember she was an archdutchess, and that, no matter the circumstances, she had to play that part.  
  
If not for herself, then for her husband. She swallowed the lump which she knew would come and the tears which she knew would start flowing soon.  
  
She clenched her jaw. She refused to cry. She refused to appear weak.  
  
She'd forced herself to remain strong and cool for the past week. Or two weeks. Or two years. However long it had been since Beka had contacted her and quietly whispered that Charlemagne was dead. That he was never coming home again. That her child would never see his father again. That she would never see the man she loved again. That he would never contact her and wish her good night and tell her he loved her before she went to bed like he did every single night when they slept in separate places. That he would never smile at her when she frowned, never laugh when she scowled, never get angry when she was seething, never let his optimism fade when confronted with her pessimism.  
  
She swallowed hard.  
  
She had refused to see anyone in the past two weeks. Or years.  
  
She'd refuse to meet with her subcommanders and the representatives from the High Council who had flown in, whining over what they should do now that Charlemagne was dead. She'd even sent her servants away, despite their insistence that she shouldn't be alone.  
  
She took a deep breath and smoothed her long black dress. The only reason she'd come out of her room and agreed to come down to her livingroom was because one of her servants had quietly come in and said that someone was waiting for her.  
  
When the servant had come in and informed her she had a visitor, she had brusquely told her to send him away. She didn't want to see anyone. Especially anyone who would remind her of the war. And Charlemagne.  
  
But her visitor had been insistent. Refusing to tell any of her servants his name, the only thing about him that Elsbett knew was that he was a male Nietzschean who was willing to wait until the end of the year to see her.  
  
After three days of the man living in her house with her never seeing him, she'd finally agreed to see him. Her servants had said it was starting to be eerie to serve a man everyday whose favourite meal they knew, but whose name they didn't know.  
  
She gently rubbed the string of black pearsl which hung around her neck. She'd been wearing them every day and night since Beka had told her. She'd wound another string of them into her hair and hung another around her waist. Charlemagne had given them to her as an anniversary present. She'd asked for the brightest, most expensive and most colorful neclace he could find, and he, finding it very funny, had brought her ten strings of ugly, black pearls instead. She'd never worn them, always afraid he'd laugh at her in amusement if he saw her.  
  
Now, she would have willingly gone to the end of the universe to hear his laughter.  
  
Giving her hair a pat and holding her chin up, she glided into the room.  
  
As soon as she stepped around a tall statue which stood by the door, her dark eyes glanced around the room, looking for her visitor.  
  
She saw him sitting in a comfortable chair, his legs crossed and one of the books from the shelves circling the room in his lap.  
  
He had just turned a page when she stepped around the statue.  
  
As soon as she saw who it was, her eyebrow involutarily rose and she stopped. She stared at him.  
  
He'd glanced up at her when he saw her coming and slowly closed the book.  
  
Slowly, she walked over to the chair facing his and lowered herself into it, not taking her eyes off him.  
  
"Tyr Anasazi." She said. She narrowed her eyes and quickly skimmed over him. She hadn't seen him for over a year now. He didn't look like he had changed much. The same leather pants, same gun which hung in his belt, same knife which poked out from his boot top, the same long braids which fell across his back and the tight muscles of his chest which was covered by a black shirt and jacket. Everything was the same except for his eyes. There was a sadness in them. A bitterness. She found herself suddenly trying to remember where she had seen those eyes before. Frowning, she finally remembered. Beka had those same eyes.  
  
He smiled. "Archdutchess Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar." He found himself looking her over too. She still dressed and behaved as elegantly and sophisticated as she had been raised, although the dark colors and dark jewelry made her face look paler and more drawn. Although he doubted that those were just the result of the colors she was wearing. Her hair looked much the same too. She hadn't appeared to have changed much.  
  
All except for her eyes. There was a sadness in them. A bitterness.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Elsbett lifted a hand and signalled one of her servants to fetch them something to drink.  
  
Neither of them said a word while the servant vanished and then reappeared, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. Both of them leaned forward and took a glass.  
  
The silence in the room remained heavy and drawn out as both of their gazes slid down to their glasses and they sipped their champagne.  
  
Finally, Tyr raised his eyes to her face.  
  
"I was very distressed to hear about Charlemagne's death." He said, gently swirling the golden, bubbly liquid in his glass. "He was a good leader for the Pride, and a good father."  
  
Elsbett smiled faintly. "Most of the people in the High Council thought of him as a fool. They were nearly glad to hear of his death." She said quietly, resentment in her voice.  
  
Tyr glanced at her. "Then those people are the ones who were fools. Charlemagne might have had some…irritating faults, but everyone has some of those. At least he used his to his advantage, unlike those characters you are talking about who only whine and cry about theirs." He took a sip of his champagne. "He was a great man. A worthy Nietzschean."  
  
Elsbett's smile grew a little more geniune. "Thank you. That means a lot to me, and my family."  
  
She glanced up at him. "I was very sorry to hear about your shipmates too. Especially Dylan."  
  
Tyr's eyes quickly drifted away from hers and he stared into his glass.  
  
He hadn't heard about his former shipmates fates, and the ships fate itself, until months after they all came to pass. After leaving the ship, he had immediately thrown himself into finding work for himself. After finding one of his former employers, he had been gladly and quickly rehired. However, his employer had caught a severe case of Terumian fever, a disease which is not only fatal but renders its victims unconscious days before they died. After six months of working for him, he had died, and Tyr had taken over the company. It was then that Tyr first heard about the Andromeda's fate. The man who had told him had raised a confused eyebrow when Tyr had demanded to know if the ships avatar had survived the explosion along with the crew. The man had stammered that he hadn't been aware that ships could have avatars, and besides, it didn't really matter, since they were just machines and didn't really 'live' in the first place. Not wanting to explain, Tyr had swallowed the man's ignorance and dismissed him, leaving him confused and frowning. It wasn't until later that Tyr heard about what had happened to his former captain and the rest of the crew. He had been in a bar, discussing a business deal with a client, when he overheard two men talking in a nearby booth. They were talking about the supreme leader of the allied forces having been caught and arrested by the Drago-Katzov. The men were in a heated discussion over whether or not he would be executed or kept for show. Tyr knew the answer, but refrained from interupting the men. It was only by chance that he overheard them talking about two women going to see the Admiral and pleading for the Captain back. How the men knew this, Tyr didn't know, but he immediately knew that the two women must have been Beka and Trance. This was confirmed when one of the women was described as 'real tough and bitter looking, but a real good looker' and the other one as 'strange purple thing, really hot, but ain't got a clue what she was'. Definitely Beka and Trance.  
  
That had been the last he had heard from them. He knew that Dylan was dead, from the numerous reports which had been flying all over neutral and allied space for months now. He'd known he was dead since he heard about his arrest.  
  
But about the rest of the crew he had no idea.  
  
He glanced up at Elsbett. She saw the look in his eyes.  
  
She looked down into her glass. "I saw Captain Valentine just a few months ago at a military meeting. The purple—Trance wasn't with her, but I overheard her saying that she was still on the ship with her." She frowned. "Whatever that wreck she flies is called. Eureka something or other. I can't remember."  
  
"The Eureka Maru." Tyr quietly interupted her. Elsbett nodded.  
  
Tyr looked at her. "And she's continuing the war?"  
  
Elsbett nodded again. "She's doing it for Dylan. I don't think she personally gives a damn who wins or loses, but she's doing it for Dylan. I don't know how long she intends to keep it up, but knowing her, she'll be at it for quite some time."  
  
Tyr nodded. "She's not the type to give up easily. Quite stubborn." He shifted in his chair. "And you? Are you going to continue the war?"  
  
It was one the edge of Elsbett's tongue to retort that such matters were her husbands business and not hers, but then she remembered. She forced herself to breathe, keep her tears at bay and answer Tyr. She tossed her hair over her shoulder.  
  
"My husband signed a pact with Dylan promising his assistance in any military conflicts. It doesn't matter that both of them are dead now. Beka is carrying on Dylan's part of the pact, and I shall carry on my husband's part of the pact. To do something else never crossed my mind."  
  
"And you believe the High Council will agree to this?"  
  
He saw her stiffen and saw that stubborn glint in her eye. He was glad to see them. They brought back the ghost of the woman she once was.  
  
"I don't care whether they agree or not. Those forces are now my forces and this pride is now my pride. What I do with both of them is my affair."  
  
Tyr nodded, completely agreeing with her.  
  
Then they both lapsed into silence again, staring into their champagne glasses, lost in their own thoughts.  
  
Elsbett thinking about Charlemagne, and Tyr thinking about the people he had forgotten about for months already.  
  
Suddenly, Elsbett cleared her throat and looked up at him.  
  
"Tyr, what are you doing here?"  
  
He gave her a faint smile and gestured at the book he had been reading. "Reading material. Your husband's diverse collection of literature intrigues me. He was a man who knew his authors."  
  
Elsbett didn't smile. She would have, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. There was too much sadness cloaking her heart to make her laugh. She suddenly thought that this must have been how Beka must have felt.  
  
Tyr slowly put down his glass. "I am here to make you a proposition."  
  
She raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.  
  
"It's quite a simple one, really. Given the current circumstances, of course." He leaned forward. "Elsbett, if I might say so, this is very large and thriving Pride and it's military force is also very strong in number and ability. Asides from that, you are going through a difficult time now, and you also have a child to raise. You can't possibly be thinking about doing all of this on your own."  
  
Elsbett's eyes jerked up from her glass and she stared at Tyr. She knew exactly what he was asking. In fact, she had suspected as much. She knew that some time soon, someone would show up and demand that she marry them so they could gain control of the largest, most successful Pride next to the Drago-Katzov.  
  
She stared at him. Only she hadn't known it would be him. And so soon.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to marry you." It wasn't a question.  
  
Tyr nodded. "Surely it crossed your mind that you can't do all of this on your own."  
  
She stared at him. "Tyr, asides from telling me what what I can and cannot do, tell me how else would I benefit from such a union?" She wasn't the least bit interested, but she was curious as to what he had to offer.  
  
He smiled. "Elsbett, I know this doesn't interest you in the least right now, and that you are still grieving for your husband. I'm not asking you to make any decisions now. All I ask if that you hear me out and keep me in mind for your future."  
  
She nodded. That sounded better.  
  
He leaned forward again, clasping his hands together. "You asked what benefits you would get out of our marriage. I will give you three. First off, I would fulfill all husbandly duties which no other male would otherwise be allowed to do, secondly, I would help you continue this war and fight it efficiently and successfully. With both of our military experiences combined, we just might be able to turn this foolish escapade into a worthy cause."  
  
Before she could protest that, he held up a hand and continued. "But most importantly, I would help you secure your position in this Pride."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "How is that?"  
  
"Elsbett, I know your in-laws as well as you do and I know that they were never happy about your union with Charlemagne. They had their eyes set on that young daughter of Charlemagne's uncle I believe. The only reason they put up with having someone from outside the Pride marry into their family was because of the peace it would bring. Granted, it did achieve that, but now that Charlemagne is dead, I doubt they would be extremely happy with you taking control of a Pride which is only yours by a marriage right, not by blood."  
  
She stared at him. "I don't understand. You belong to this Pride less than I do. You don't even have marital rights in it. What could I possibly gain in my in-laws eyes by marrying you?"  
  
He smiled. "I doubt they'll be very happy with you taking another husband, but they'd see the necessity of it. Since there are no longer any eligible bachelors within your own family who would be suitable, it is obvious that you'd have to settle for someone outside the Pride anyway. As you know, I would be a very probable candidate. My genes are superb and so is my family's reputation. I was once an alpha too, you know."  
  
She nodded. It was true. Out of all the possible husbands she would have to soon choose from, Tyr would be one of the best.  
  
Tyr continued, as if not yet convinced that she saw all the benefits. "If we had any children, they would be declared children of the Sabra-Jaguar and the line of the Pride would continue. That is all your in-laws have ever asked of you. I would be helping to fulfill that."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "You would give up your own Pride's name?"  
  
He shrugged. "I have given up all hope of regaining my own Pride's prestige and glory. The only thing I can hope for now is to gain entry into your family. Thus, my position would change very little from my original one, with the only exception being my Pride's name."  
  
She chewed on her lower lip, lost in thought.  
  
It was a good offer. A very good offer. Her in-laws would be pleased. Especially when they heard that Tyr would be willing to become a Sabra- Jaguar by marriage.  
  
As much as she wanted to do this, her heart was crying out that it was too soon.  
  
She looked up at Tyr.  
  
"I must admit I like your offer, but I hope you realize that it's much too soon."  
  
He nodded, understanding. "Of course it is. I'm not asking you to make any decisions now. All I ask if that you keep my offer in mind."  
  
She nodded and lowered her eyes. "Thank you." She cleared her throat. "Not many people in your position would respect my grief."  
  
It was a long standing tradition that an alpha female of any pride would take another husband as soon as her former husband died. It was the only way to ensure the pride's survival and the continuity of its line. She glanced up at him. The fact that Tyr was willing to let her wait and grieve was nearly an unheard thing. It was almost…human.  
  
He smiled gently. "Another reason why I would make a very plausible candidate." He had been about to tell her that the only reason he was willing to give her time was because he had slowly gotten accustomed to letting his human emotions override his Nietzschean instincts and yearnings for tradition. He smiled inwardly as he thought of how she might react if he told her the truth and told her that the only reason he did this was to keep a promise he had made long ago. She'd never believe him.  
  
She nodded again, gratitude over his understanding and consideration filling her heart. "Thank you, again. It's not something most people would have done."  
  
She slowly swirled her champagne around her glass. "I'll bring your offer to my in-laws attentions. They will undoubtfully be pleased."  
  
Tyr nodded. Slowly, he got up and started towards the door. The woman still had a lot of healing to do. He didn't want to disturb her anymore than he had to.  
  
He passed her chair and was about to walk past the statue, when he heard her speak.  
  
"I loved him, you know." Came a quiet, painfilled whisper from the chair.  
  
Tyr paused and looked at the back of the tall chair. He glanced at the floor.  
  
"I know you did."  
  
She gave a strangled laugh. "My in-laws don't believe it. They think I just used and made him miserable."  
  
Tyr stared at the back of the chair and smiled faintly. "My dear, it doesn't matter what your in-laws think. All that matters is that you loved him. If you know in your own heart that you loved him, you have no need to explain or prove yourself to anyone." He said quietly.  
  
No response came from the figure sitting on the chair.  
  
Without another word, Tyr quietly walked out of the room.  
  
Elsbett was left alone, staring at the chair in which Tyr had sat.  
  
She reached up to her neck and gently rubbed one of the black pearls.  
  
Suddenly, her withheld tears brimmed her eyes and pain clutched her heart and she started sobbing.  
  
Tyr heard her heart wrenching sobs, but knew that only time itself could heal her pain, so he walked down the corridor without turning around.  
  
Before he reached the door, one of the servants came running up to him and asked him when they should be expecting him back so they might prepare a room for him.  
  
He had smiled at her briefly and replied that he'd be back as soon as her mistress's heart had finished healing.  
  
With that, he'd turned and let himself out of the house, leaving the servant gaping after him, and leaving the Archdutchess of the Sabra-Jaguar Pride sitting in her livingroom, clutching a strand of ugly, black pearls and sobbing bitter tears of grief. 


	9. Chapter 9

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 9  
  
* * * * * (one year later) * * * * *  
  
Beka slowly flew her old ship towards the Colonel's large destroyer. She ruefully shook her head as she went. The Colonel had hailed her early that morning asking her to drop by and greet the Castalian representatives from the High Council who had come by for a visit. Beka had immediately refused, saying that there was no way she was going to spend her afternoon sitting a room with weezing, whining fish people, and besides, what would she tell them? They'd been losing battle after battle for months already and the High Council would want to shot her if she told them how many ships they'd lost.  
  
The Colonel had blankly blinked at her and then abruptly told her that she'd be expecting her in an hour.  
  
Damn the woman, Beka sighed as she flew closer to the Colonel's ship. She had been surprised at how easily the Colonel had twisted her arm at getting her to come. But, after more than a year of fighting side by side, Beka had gradually gotten used to the Colonel.  
  
That cold, no-nonsense, tough attitude had never faded and rarely a day went by when Beka didn't make some off hand mutter about fish habits. But when it came down to the wire, the Colonel wouldn't hesitate to go out of her way to make sure Beka was alright, and when it came to dealing with the harder aspect of the war, such as informing families that their loved ones had died, the Colonel always let Beka handle those things. She saved Beka from being blown to pieces and kept her from making stupid remarks to important people, and Beka in turn saved her from having to deal with emotional things which the Colonel didn't know how to deal with.  
  
They were a good pair.  
  
Beka smiled. Come to think of it, all of them made a pretty good team. Over the past year, they'd taken beating after beating after beating, but they'd always scrambled away in the nick of time and then had time to swear and laugh about it.  
  
Commander Maston had really turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At every meeting, he'd stare blankly into space or yawn his way through, until Beka turned to him at the end and always told him in a few sentences exactly what she wanted him to do. It was always the same. The main fleet would attack first, and the Commander's forces would lie in wait of Beka's signal. As soon as Beka hailed him, screaming to be heard above the explosions and the sirens going off around her, he'd calmly nod his head, swallow his fear and order his troops to move out. And no matter how bad it got, no matter how scared he was, being in the thicket of the fighting, he'd never back out until she told him to. He'd never once, even when she could see the fear widen his eyes and the blood drain from his face, even when he knew they had no chance in hell, even then he'd never once asked her to retreat. He'd always waited for her word.  
  
Beka had once tried thanking for this. For this undying loyalty and trust which he had given her. But he'd just waved a dismissive hand and had told her that it should be him thanking her, not the other way around.  
  
"Captain Valentine, if it weren't for you, my forces and I would have died months ago. You can thank me for my loyalty and my trust, but I need to thank you for my life, and those of my crew."  
  
General Tumak had gradually gotten better as well. The paranoia was still there, and he still had to be coaxed into firing when they were about to be squashed into tuna by advancing Dragan fighters and Beka was screaming at him over the nearby explosions and sirens to fire, but he always came through. At every meeting, he was still the one to always 'raise concerns' or look at 'the practical side of things' and try to whine his way out of a risky manuver which Beka and the Colonel had in mind. But after either of the two female commanders raised their eyebrows and the Colonel fixed him with her cold stare, he always piped down and, with his chin shaking slightly and his eyes rolling, agreed that it was the best plan to follow.  
  
But in the past few months, he was growing bolder by the day. He no longer squawked in terror when Dragan ships showed up out of nowhere or when their fleet appeared to be burning up in cinders, but managed to swallow and carry on. When Beka had remarked about his newfound courage, he had shrugged it off.  
  
"Captain, for the past year, hardly a day has gone by when no one has fired on us or chased us and when the damn siren in my ship hasn't been blaring about something being broken or in critical condition. I'm nearly used to it."  
  
Beka couldn't help but agree with him. She was so used to the incessant whining of her emergency siren and the quiet hiss of leaky pipes that she ignored them completely. She was so accustomed to them by now that she'd fall asleep at night with the siren blaring and not even notice it.  
  
However, it hadn't occurred to her exactly how far the Perseid General's new battle attitude extended until a battle just a few weeks ago.  
  
They had snuck up on a small division of Dragan fighters which were clustered together and slowly moving towards a nearby planet for refuelling. The Colonel had checked and determined that there were no other ships nearby.  
  
They had quietly drifted up to the slow moving Dragan fighters, staying hidden in a nebula cloud which was conveniently drifting at the same pace as the fighters.  
  
As usual, Commander Maston's forces were hiding at a nearby slipstream portal, waiting for Beka's signal. With the Castalian forces on one side of her and the General's Perseid forces on the other side, they'd hovered in the cloud, waiting until the Dragans were within full view.  
  
As they waited, the engines of the ships floating beside her quietly hummed, and for once, her siren wasn't going on.  
  
Somehow, in the huge cluster of fighters and destroyers all huddled together, shrouded in the fog from the cloud, the General's ship had gotten turned around and was facing the wrong end of the cloud. Nobody, not even the General noticed this as they all tensely waited for the battle to start.  
  
Since Beka was in the middle, she was one the one who was supposed to be giving the other forces the signal to head out.  
  
As she sat there, impatiently drumming her fingers on her armrest and biting her lip and praying that no reinforcements would show up, she suddenly saw a strange light blinking on her navigation screen. She realized it was her ship and that her distress beacon had somehow turned on.  
  
"Oh, shit." She muttered and leaned forward and quickly switched it off, hoping that the others had the sense enough to notice that it had been her beacon, and not the signal to take off.  
  
Apparently most of the ships had realized that and calmly settled down to wait for the real signal, all except for one.  
  
Moments after her distress beacon had turned on, the General seemed to have a spur of the moment fit of courage.  
  
Beka watched with pure amazement as his ship shot out of the cloud, hurling through space, it's lights flashing and it's siren screaming, the whole time going the wrong way.  
  
Beka reached up and was about to hail him, when the Commander hailed her. His white face appeared on the screen.  
  
"Captain! It's the General! I think he's gone mad."  
  
She stared at him. With a stammer, the Commander ran a nervous hand through his hair.  
  
"Right after your distress beacon went off, he contacts me, yelling something about 'going to kick some Dragan ass' and screaming at all of his forces to move. Apparently he was the only one to notice it wasn't the real signal." He stared at her, his eyes wide.  
  
Beka continued staring at him before looking down at her screen and seeing the still blinking, flashing ship hurling through space, towards absolutely nothing, while leaving the rest of the fleet and the Dragan fighters far behind.  
  
Suddenly, the whole absurdity of the situation hit her and she started laughing. And kept on laughing. She clutched her side, howling with laughter and nearly crying.  
  
She managed to choke out: "Go and retrieve the General please, Commander. Make sure you break it to him gently that he was—he was" Beka couldn't continue and nearly fell out of her chair laughing. "Going the wrong way!" she howled.  
  
With a nod, the Commander's flustered face disappeared, and moments later, Beka saw a Mobius fighter madly shooting through space towards the General's fighter.  
  
At the same time, the Colonel hailed her. After staring at the completely hysterical captain for a few moments who was nearly crying because of her laughter, the Colonel's blank face twitched and she too collapsed with laughter.  
  
As they sat there, choking with laughter and nearly crying, neither of them realized that it was the first time they had seen the other laughing.  
  
Beka blinked back her tears and looked up at the Colonel. "The one time, the one time he's running ahead of the pack, screaming a battle cry, the one time he does—" She started howling again, unable to finish her sentence.  
  
The Colonel nodded through her laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks too. "He's going the wrong way!"  
  
They collapsed again, all thoughts about the impending attack, about the impending casualties, broken ships, sirens and explosions far from their minds.  
  
Neither of them realized it at the time, but that incident was the one time they would laugh together. That small stupid mistake of the General had given both of them their last chance for laughter.  
  
Beka wearily shook her head as she had remembered that. She had been nearly hurt by the disappointed and embarrassed look on the General's face when he had contacted her that he had 'made a slight mistake'. But that hadn't kept her struggling to hold her laughter back as soon as his back had turned.  
  
She sighed. Back then she had wished that the rest of the year would be just like that. Filled with laughter and cries of courage and hope.  
  
But the year had been anything but.  
  
They hadn't been winning. Not at all. At nearly every battle, they had lost. Even in the few, rare occassions where the Dragans had been the first to run, they had suffered more casualties than the Nietzscheans so it put them in a worse position in their next meeting.  
  
But at nearly every battle they started off surprising the Dragans and gaining a few good cards, but as soon as the Dragans called in their reinforcements, the situation would turn around. Badly. They always tried. They always fought. No matter how many of their own ships were exploding around them, how many missiles were wizzing past them, no matter how many green blips were disappearing off their navigation screens, they always fought. And kept on fighting, until either Beka or the Colonel screamed through their viewscreens over the wails of sirens and distress beacons and exploding ships for them to retreat. Then they'd run. Gathering their broken, battered fleet around them, they'd hurl themselves at the nearest slipstream portal, always praying that they would reach it before the Dragan missiles caught them or more Dragans came flying out of nowhere as reinforcements. Even with half of their ships crippled and wearily crawling towards the portals and the few good ships zipping around at insane speeds to pick them up and haul them to the nearest portal, they'd still keep firing.  
  
Some of their brave little fighters had mastered the art of navigating through slipstream while firing their weapons at the same time, so they could blow up Dragans right before slipstream tore them off to safety.  
  
Despite the fact that they found themselves with smaller and smaller numbers, despite the fact that their remaining ships were so badly mangled that they could hardly hold them together with the spare parts and scraps of metal they could find, despite the fact that they were all battle weary and their smiles were tired and their faces bedraggled, when it came time to fight another battle, they were all there. Revving their poor, battered ships up and clenching their jaws and forcing optimistic smiles on their faces, they'd thrown themselves into battle, determined to do as much damage to the Dragans as possible before retreating.  
  
That was Beka and the Colonel's plan these days. Instead of attempting what the General called 'suicide missions' where they'd desperately bombard a planet surface in an attempt at destroying a Dragan base there, they had learned very quickly to stick to plans where surprise and the cover of clouds and asteriods were there to help them. Now they just flew around and attacked small groups of Dragan divisions, trying desperately to destroy as many of them as possible before reinforcements showed up.  
  
It was a desperate game of cat and mouse now. Their small fleet trying to leap in and take a chunk out of the Dragan fleet whenever they could, but always being ready to run away should reinforcements come in.  
  
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was a way to guarantee that their forces wouldn't dwindle as quicky as before and that the Dragans, and the Admiral would be kept on their toes.  
  
Beka smiled. It certainly wasn't much, but it was something. She slowed down as she reached the Colonel's ship and hovered in space until one of the hanger doors was opened. She slowly flew in and landed her old, groaning ship on the floor and cut the engines.  
  
Running a hand through her hair she grimaced as she unclipped her seatbelt, leapt out of her chair and walked towards the airlock. A meeting with the Castalian High Council was always such a pleasure.  
  
Oh, well. Like she had a real choice about it.  
  
She leapt off her ship and walked down the familiar corridor of the Colonel's ship towards her briefing room.  
  
As soon as the door opened, Beka was greeted by the sight of five important looking fish men sitting around a table, all glaring at her as she entered.  
  
Glaring right back, she walked past them and took a seat next to the Colonel.  
  
The Colonel nervously brushed a strand of her hair behind her ears, which immediately fell back into its former place. After attempting it and failing one more time, she just nervously clasped her hands on the table.  
  
Beka glared around the table one more time before painting a phoney smile on her face and grinning at the person sitting at the head of the table.  
  
She tried remembering his name, but failed. She shrugged and didn't really care. They'd be gone and out of her life in twenty minutes. That is, if she could help it. If the Colonel forced them to stay however, she'd find some excuse to leave. No way she was eating dinner with fish men.  
  
"So," she said, trying to keep her voice light and cheerful. "How was your trip up here?" she asked.  
  
The person stared back at her through narrowed, blank eyes. He shrugged. "As pleasurable as flight through a battle zone might be."  
  
It was on the tip of her tongue to retort a 'Well, what did you expect?' but knew that the Colonel would glare at her and afterwards hotly reprimand her, so she kept her mouth shut.  
  
"Well," the man said, his voice raspy and hollow sounding due to the breathing apparatus attached to his neck and impairing his vocal chords. "Since we're all here now, I'd like to get right down to business. I don't have all day, and neither, I'm sure, do you Captain and you Colonel, so I'll get straight to the point. The president has asked for you to tell me of any significant military advances you have made over the past few months. He has felt that the Colonel's reports were somewhat lacking and he wished to know more details."  
  
A small silence enveloped the room as Beka and the Colonel stared around the room, each trying to come up with something which would impress the High Council and the President.  
  
Beka couldn't think of anything. She doubted they'd care if she told them that their fleet was such a group of great troopers that they easily sat down, played cards and drank while waiting for an ambush to start.  
  
The Colonel replied instead. "We've made significant progress in our defensive strategies over the past few months. Commander Maston's forces are excellent back up and have become extremely talented at keeping out of sight until they are signalled and—"  
  
"What you're saying is, the fleet is very efficient at running away bravely. I'm afraid that doesn't qualify as a significant military advance." The man acidly interupted her.  
  
The Colonel briefly glanced up and glared at him, but didn't respond.  
  
Finally, Beka thought of something. Not a great military advance, but something which might make their failures seem more justified.  
  
"I hope the High Council has been informed that significant numbers of the Sabra-Jaguar Pride have been pulled from the war. The Archdutchess couldn't handle running the Pride by herself and being in command of all of her forces at the same time, so she has decided to withdraw her fleet until she can sort things out—"  
  
"Once again, that's absolutely fantastic, but it's not what I came here to hear." He sighed. The sound irritated Beka beyond belief. She resisted the urge to punch the table she was leaning on.  
  
The man sighed again and exchanged brief glances with the men sitting around him.  
  
"Well, it's as I feared it would be." The man glanced at the women sitting beside him. "The President has asked that, if I find that no advances have been made, that I pull all Castalian support from the war."  
  
Both Beka's and the Colonel's eyes shot up from the table and they stared at the man.  
  
Beka found her voice first. She gave a harsh laugh. "You want to pick up your troops and run away, don't you? Well, I have news for you. After Captain Hunt's death I took over the role of supreme commander over our combined fleet. I outrank both you and your President, and the only person who can give permission to pull divisions out of this war is myself. And you're not getting that permission."  
  
The man's face turned slightly red as he glared at her. "I don't know who the hell you think—"  
  
"I know exactly what I am, sir. I'm the supreme commander, which is something you're not. I say I don't give permission for the Castalian forces to back out, and they don't." She tore her blazing eyes off the man long enough to glance at the Colonel. "However, I'll let the Castalians go if the Colonel wishes to leave." She added quietly.  
  
The Colonel's eyes quickly glanced at her. Behind the blankness within them, Beka could see a loyalty within them. That same loyalty which had shone within them more than a year ago when she had sworn to stand by Beka at that meeting on the Sunrise.  
  
The Colonel raised her chin and turned to glare at the man. "I have no wish to pull my forces out of this war, and I have no wish to back out now and crawl home with my tail between my legs. I started fighting this war with Captain Valentine, and I shall end it with her." She said quietly, a firmness and determination in her voice that quickly quelled any argument the Council members might have had.  
  
Blinking from one determined, angry woman to the other, they finally lowered their gazes and stared at the table.  
  
The man sitting at the head of the table blushed and cleared his throat uncomfortably.  
  
"Well, if that's what the supreme commander and the Colonel wish, than that is what they shall get." He hissed. Abruptly, he stood up, his hands clenched into fists by his side. The rest of the Council members stood up with him. Beka and the Colonel also rose and the seven of them glared at each other, before the Council members turned and swiftly walked out of the room.  
  
After the last one had left and the door had swished shut behind them, both of the women dropped into their chairs and blew out long breaths.  
  
The Colonel wearily tried tugging that strand of hair behind her ears again, but gave up when it didn't stay there.  
  
They sat there, not wanting to move as they listened to the quiet hum as the hanger deck doors opened and the whirring of an engine starting. Moments later, the Castalian's ship flew past the window they were sitting beside and quickly disappeared into slipstream.  
  
Beka slowly stood up and stretched. Well, that had been one hell of a waste of time.  
  
She yawned. "I'm gonna head back to the Maru. The Commander asked me to come by and help him fix his navigation screen. Something about all ships appearing the same shape and color on it or something. Says it's driving his pilot crazy—" Before the sentence was fully out of her mouth, she was thrown forward onto the table as something hit the ship.  
  
Before she could even frown and pick herself off the table, another blast hit the ship and she was thrown from the table into the far wall.  
  
After crashing into the wall, she quicky pushed herself up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. The Colonel had also been flung across the room and had missed the window by inches. Both of them turned to each other, staring at each other wide eyed and gasping for breath.  
  
"Missiles." They both blurted out at the same time.  
  
The Colonel ran forward and tapped on a screen. Immediately, her pilot appeared on the viewscreen.  
  
"Colonel!" the pilot yelled at her. "Dragans just showed up from nowhere. They came pouring out of slipstream the moment the High Council's ship left." Another barrage of missiles hit the ship and Beka was thrown across the room and grabbed the table's edge. All of the chairs had been thrown over and were sliding across the room. The Colonel had grasped the doorway.  
  
"Evasive manuvers! Now! Hail the rest of the fleet and tell them to run. Forget about firing. We're too disorganized right now. Just tell them to run!" The Colonel screamed at her pilot as another set of missiles hit the ship. This time, the pictures from the wall went flying across the room and the table turned sideways. Vases fell off of shelves and crashed onto the floor, breaking into tiny fragments of glass.  
  
Beka slowly edged her way across the room towards the Colonel. She ducked as a vase went flying past her and desperately tried remaining on her feet as another wave of missiles hit the ship.  
  
This time, the viewscreen into which the Colonel had been screaming exploded. The Colonel jumped backwards, throwing her hands up to shield her face.  
  
The ship was starting to shake now and the emergency siren which both women knew so well started wailing.  
  
Beka stumbled across the shaking floor towards the door and madly punched on the access panel until it slid open. Grabbing the Colonel by the wrist, Beka dragged her through the door and down the hall.  
  
Outside of the room, chaos had ensued. The pilot had unsuccessfully tried turning around and running towards the nearest portal, only to discover to her horror that more Dragans were coming towards them. Finding themselves surrounded, the terrified crew ran all around the ship, screaming and yelling, trying to remain standing on the shaking ship and ducking for cover as more missiles hit the ship.  
  
Beka ran down the hallway, dragging the Colonel with her. While the siren blared around them and the floor shook beneath their feet, Beka abruptly pushed a strand of her hair out of her face and kept on stumbling down the corridor.  
  
"Wait!" the Colonel screamed, dragging Beka to a halt. Beka let go of her wrist and turned around, just as a chunk of the wall beside them was torn from the wall and came flying towards them. Beka's eyes widened and she lunged for the Colonel and pushed both of themselves onto the floor just before the large metal chunk flew past their heads and violently slammed into the wall.  
  
Sparking wires were being torn from the ceiling and smoke was staring to pour from the overloading systems. Beka squinted through the smoke and scrambled to her feet. More crewmembers ran past them, stumbling and colliding with the walls.  
  
The Colonel pushed herself off the floor and stumbled over to a intercom button. Pushing it, Beka saw a faint red light flicker on beside it. Breathing hard, she was glad to see that at least that was still functioning.  
  
Gasping for breath, squinting through the smoke and sweat pouring down her face, Beka screamed over at the Colonel.  
  
"Tell them to abandon ship! Now, Colonel! This ship isn't going to last much longer."  
  
The Colonel stared at her for a moment, not understanding, not letting herself understand, but hen shook herself and screamed into the com for her crew to run to the escape pods and try to make it to the nearest slipstream portal.  
  
Just after the last word was out of the Colonel's mouth, the small com exploded. Beka reached forward and just pulled the Colonel out of the way as sparks and pieces of metal flew past them.  
  
Turning around, Beka started running down the corridor, with the Colonel beside her.  
  
Squinting and wearily trying to keep their eyes shielded from the smoke with their hands, they ran crouching over the shaking deck plates, ducking as torn wires dangled above their heads and control panels and chunks of the walls exploded and flew past them.  
  
As they ran, the siren wailing behind the sound of panels and systems exploding and the screams of the crew trying to fight their way to the pods, Beka was suddenly thrown back in time as she remembered how she had done this before.  
  
As she kept on running, ducking from the flying debris and the wires, the ship shaking beneath her feet and the wail of the siren ringing in her ears, her mind reeled back in time and she swore she could hear Andromeda's voice calmly telling them over the wail of the siren and the explosions that all systems had failed and that the situation was beyond critical.  
  
Glancing beside her and squinting through the smoke, Beka swore she saw Dylan's terrified, sweat streaked face beside her as they ran crouching down the corridors. Her hand reached down to her side as she groped for Trance's hand through the smoke. Finding a hand, she grasped it and kept on running.  
  
"It's gonna be okay, Trance. Just hang on!" Beka screamed over her shoulder at the person whose hand she was clutching.  
  
Suddenly, the person behind her skid to a stop, nearly making Beka fall over.  
  
Beka glanced over her shoulder. All she saw through the smoke was short, dark brown hair and a tall, slender person crouching behind her.  
  
She squinted through the smoke. "Come on, Rommie! You can't stay here! Come on! We have to keep on going!" she screamed.  
  
She saw Rommie violently shaking her head and then point a shaking hand at the corridor in front of them. Beka slowly turned her head and stared through the smoke and the sparking wires down the hall. Gasping for breath, her nails digging into Trance's hand, she stared wide eyed.  
  
She saw fire. Fire.  
  
It was everywhere. The smoke which was pouring down the hallway engulfed them and stung Beka's eyes so badly she nearly squeezed them shut, bitter tears coursing down her sweat streaked cheeks.  
  
Ducking as a panel next to them exploded, Beka stared in front of her. The entire hallway in front of them was on fire. A thick wire from the ceiling had fallen and landed on a connector cord which lay in the hallway. As soon as the sparks from the wires touched, a wild fire had erupted. The hot, red flames licked at the walls and floor, slowly engulfing the hallway and making its way closer to them.  
  
Beka covered her mouth with her hand and coughed as she nearly choked on the strong smell of the smoke.  
  
She turned over her shoulder. Rommie was talking to her. Screaming was more like it, but Beka could hardly hear her over the explosions, the siren and the crackling of the fire.  
  
"The Maru is in the hangar on the other side of the fire, Captain!" came the muffled yell. Beka frowned for a moment. Rommie never called her 'Captain'. She ignored it.  
  
Swiftly squinting through the smoke again, she nodded. "Then we run through it!" she yelled back.  
  
Rommie gave her a cool nod. Beka nearly smiled. As always, whenever things got messy, Rommie was always calm and collected.  
  
The only shining star left in a dark, black universe.  
  
Slowly, the two women stumbled up and started running, crouching, towards the fire, covering their mouths with their hands and trying to keep their stinging eyes open, while Beka still clutched Trance's hand.  
  
Just before they reached the fire, the floor beneath their feet shaking violently and the entire ship groaning, they covered their faces with their hands, took deep breath and then leapt into the crackling, hot flames which were rapidly climbing up the walls and running like rivers down the halls.  
  
As she ran, Beka could feel her clothes catching on fire and felt the sweat streaking down her face and her hair being singed. But she kept on running. Squeezing her eyes shut against the stinging smoke, she blindly stumbled through the hot flames, pulling Trance along with her.  
  
As they ran and fought their way through the flames, Beka found she couldn't breath anymore. She pushed that thought out of her mind as she kept on running, feeling the shoes on her feet melt and the skin on her arms burning.  
  
Suddenly, Beka's foot caught on a wire lying in the flames. With a strangled cry, Beka felt herself falling.  
  
With a scream, she landed in the flames, feeling them engulfing her clothes and her body.  
  
As she fell, she felt herself losing her grip on Trance's hand. With wide eyes, she glanced over her shoulder and looked back at Trance.  
  
It was only then that she realized she hadn't been holding Trance's hand. That the brown haired person she yelled to wasn't Rommie. That the person running beside her wasn't Dylan. That the ship she was running through wasn't the Andromeda.  
  
As she remembered where she was and why, she felt herself hit the burning floor. She screamed again as flames erupted over her body and quickly ate away at her clothes. She felt the scathing hot floor beneath her face and felt her skin being singed off.  
  
She tried reaching up again to grasp for Trance's hand…no, the Colonel's hand, but her grasp was met by nothing but fire. Endless, hot, burning fire.  
  
Then, she sank into a cool, black darkness as she lost consciousness.  
  
Pain. Endless, burning, hot pain. It covered her body, crept under her skin, it even engulfed her mind, burning, hot and endless. She was running through corridors of fire. Fire was everywhere. It crept up the walls and ate away at the floor. She tried running through it, but her feet wouldn't move and the flames started eating away at her as she stood in the flames, screaming in pain as the flames engulfed her. Suddenly, she could move her feet again, she started stumbling through the flames, fighting the smoke. She had to get to hydroponics. She had to get to Trance. Trance was in trouble. She had to help her. She spun around in the flames and saw Rommie calmly smiling at her from the other end of the corridor. She tried screaming out at her to help her. She kept on screaming, yelling that her body was on fire and that Rommie should help her. Rommie just smiled at her gently, before the flames suddenly engulfed the android and she vanished. Beka lunged through the flames, screaming as she felt them singe her body. She started fighting through them. She had to get off the ship. Dylan had said that they weren't doing so well right now. No, that had been her. It didn't matter. She had to find Dylan and tell him that Rommie had vanished. She tried walking through the flames, and saw Dylan infront of her. She screamed his name, but he didn't turn around. He just stood there, the flames racing towards him. She screamed his name again. The flames were engulfing him, eating away at him and he was screaming in pain as the flames burnt him. She tried covering her ears, but his screams kept on going, flying through her mind like the hot fire which surrounded her. When she looked up again, Dylan was gone. She started screaming in despair and pain as the flames burnt her skin and her clothes. As she stumbled through the smoke and fire, she suddenly saw a figure calmly standing amid the flames, smiling and watching her. He was leaning against the wall. Beka stared at him. None of the flames were touching him. He was standing there, smiling gently at her while flames crackled around him but didn't touch him. His toolbelt was hanging crookedly on his waist and his shirt was hanging out of his cargo pants.  
  
"Hey, boss." He said.  
  
She stared at him. She realized she was sobbing from pain and despair.  
  
"Harper!" she sobbed, reaching a hand out to him. He smiled at her.  
  
She stared at him and then suddenly started stammering. "Help me, Harper. The flames are everywhere and they won't let go and they're burning everything and they burnt Rommie and Dylan and I can't find Trance and they hurt so much and they won't go away and I heard Dylan screaming and then I didn't hear him anymore and the fire is so hot and it hurts so much and I just want to run away from it but it won't let go. Harper make it stop. Please make it stop. It hurts so much." She sobbed.  
  
He just kept on smiling, that sparkle in his eyes, that understanding on his face.  
  
He didn't answer. He only smiled at her. Beka's sobs caught in her throat as she stared at him. Slowly, he started drifting away. As she stared at him, his image became fainter and drifted further away, down the hallway. She tried reaching her hand towards him and stumbling towards him, but the closer she came, the farther away he moved. Slowly, he started fading away.  
  
"No! Harper don't leave me! Harper! I need you!" she screamed.  
  
He just kept on smiling at her, gazing at her patiently as he slowly faded away. Somewhere, a little voice hissed at her that he was leaving her just like she had left him. That he was abandoning her now like she had abandoned him.  
  
Weakly, she shook her head. "Harper!" she sobbed. "Please don't leave me! I'm sorry!" she screamed through the flames.  
  
That little voice laughed at her. "You think he'll help you now after the way you helped him? This is exactly what you deserve! You left him, and now he's leaving you."  
  
"Harper!" she screamed, trying to block out that incessant voice of the guilt in her head. She screamed his name again, but he just smiled at her faintly before he completely faded away, leaving nothing but fire behind.  
  
She fell sobbing onto the burning floor, feeling the flames engulfing her body and her face, feeling it burning her tears away.  
  
"I'm sorry." she whispered again, before the pain erupted within her so violently that it rendered her unconscious once more.  
  
She hadn't heard the voices outside of those burning walls. Those voices which were trying to coax her back to reality. The voices which had been there the entire time she had been unconscious.  
  
She hadn't heard one of them sigh: "She's completely delirious. I doubt she's going to come out of it any time soon. I hope the painkillers are strong enough though." A pause. "Who's Harper?"  
  
Beka didn't hear the silence which followed this question, and didn't hear the female who answered in a quiet, broken voice. "He was her engineer." Beka didn't hear the other small pause as the woman's eyes drifted onto the floor. "He died about two years ago." 


	10. Chapter 10

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 10  
  
Author's Note: Sorry this is so much later than I meant to post it! A million apologies. School's been so crazy that I haven't even had a chance to finish the story yet. But I'm getting there. To make up for the long delay, I'll post three more chapters on Sunday, okay? Stick with me guys, the story's almost done. You just have…5 more chapters after these three.  
  
By the way, thanks for the feedback guys, it means the world to me! You guys are the best!  
  
  
  
The fire in Beka's mind had slowly burnt out. The flickering flames had died out, leaving charred, smoking ashes behind. The screams had faded out too. Dylan's screams, her screams, they had all faded out and been replaced by small whispers.  
  
Coaxing whispers. Belonging to people who weren't in her mind. People who were outside of those flaming walls in which Beka had been trapped. She hadn't heard them before, but now she did. Soft voices. Encouraging voices. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but she liked their voices. They sounded calm and safe. They weren't on fire.  
  
She struggled through the black ashes surrounding her, struggling towards the sounds of those voices.  
  
Finally, she reached the end of the corridor. The voices got louder. They were still urging her onwards. Urging her to come towards them.  
  
With all of her strength, Beka lunged forward, her hands outstretched, towards those voices.  
  
Slowly, she reached them. The voices became louder and she could distinguish the Colonel's voice from that of another man's. She frowned, still fighting the flames which threatened to pull her back. That was the Commander's voice.  
  
Slowly, Beka opened her eyes. Or rather, she tried to. She tried blinking with both of her eyes, but found that only her left eye obeyed her.  
  
She frowned and tried to open her right eye. She couldn't. A sick terror flashed through her when she couldn't even feel her eyelid on that eye.  
  
Panic seized her and she yanked a hand up to her face.  
  
Her heavily bandaged hands lightly brushed against a metal plate which was wedged into her skin where her eye should have been. A shudder of fear ran down her back. What the hell was that thing on her face?  
  
Suddenly, another hand shot out of nowhere and pulled her hand back.  
  
"Not yet, Captain. It's not fully healed yet. The doctor said not to touch it for another few days."  
  
Beka gasped for breath, completely terrified. What the hell was wrong with her?  
  
She stared through the semi-darkness and with her left eye finally made out the blurred image of the figure sitting in a chair next to her bed. She squinted. It was the Colonel.  
  
She was leaning forward, gently pulling Beka's bandaged hand away from her face and laying it on the bed. Beka could see concern in her black eyes.  
  
"Colonel, what—" Beka gasped out. Her voice was raspy and terrified. She tried pushing herself off the bed. What the hell had happened to her?  
  
The Colonel heard the sick terror in her voice and gently pushed her back onto the bed.  
  
"Captain, please try to remain calm. The doctor said you should have two more days of bedrest before you tried moving. The bandages aren't very secure, and he was afraid if you moved too much, they would slip off."  
  
Beka hardly heard her. She struggled to sit up again. "My face—" She gasped out, her voice terrified.  
  
Another person appeared on her other side, and she felt another person's hands on her and gently pushing her back down.  
  
"Really, Captain Valentine. You shouldn't be moving so much. You might do yourself more harm than good."  
  
Beka stared wildy up at the other person, immediately recognizing Commander Maston's concerned, pale face and sparkling eyes.  
  
The Colonel leaned forward. "Captain, if you promise not to say a word and just to lie there and listen, I'll tell you what happened."  
  
Beka mutely nodded. She was about to open her mouth and ask her how long she had been unconscious for, but the Colonel answered her before she asked.  
  
"You have been unconscious for the past three weeks. Physically you were only unconscious for two days, but after that sedatives kept you asleep during the operation."  
  
Beka's eyes widened and she stared at the Colonel, fear in her eyes. "Operation?"  
  
The Colonel gave her a stern look and Beka abruptly shut her mouth. Satisfied that she wouldn't say another word or try to move for the time being, the Castalian woman reached down and pulled up the blanket which Beka had flung off herself. Gently, she tugged it around her. "That day, when we were running on my ship through the fire towards the Maru, you tripped in the corridor on a wire. You fell into the flames and were burned extensively. I managed to pick you up and bring you to the Maru. As you can obviously tell, you and I survived the blast, as did your ship, since we're on it at the moment. However, some of my crew didn't reach the escape pods in time and my ship was blown to pieces." The Colonel's eyes drifted downwards and she started tugging loose threads out of the frayed fabric of the blanket which she had tugged around Beka. "The Commander and I called in a doctor and for the past three weeks have been assisting him with your treatment. I left the General in charge of the fleet." The Colonel's eyes quickly glanced at Beka after having said that. But Beka didn't say anything. Not only did she trust the General almost as much as she did the Colonel, she was beyond caring about the rest of the fleet. All she wanted to know was what that thing on her face was and why she couldn't see.  
  
Not hearing the wave of complains and frusterated sighs which she thougth she would get, the Colonel carried on. "You were burned quite badly from the fire. The doctor had to surgically remove your clothes using nanobots, since your clothes were melted into your skin and the doctor was afraid of doing more damage than good by removing them himself. Despite the fact that you looked horrendous those first few days, the doctor did a marvelous job and all except a few scars here and there, you look just like you before."  
  
The Colonel's eyes flickered off of Beka's bright, fearful eyes, not wanting to tell her what parts of her they couldn't fix. What parts of her they would never again be able to fix.  
  
She nearly started berating herself for being a coward, but then she knew she hadn't ever been any good at these emotional things. She'd always let the Captain handle them.  
  
The Commander, his eyes briefly flickering back and forth between the Colonel and the Captain, realized what was going on, and stepped around the bed.  
  
He gave Beka a weak smile as he gently clasped one of her hands.  
  
"However, Captain Valentine, I'm afraid that there were a few things we couldn't fix. When you fell, all parts of your body which were exposed to the fire were covered by clothes and were protected more or less. All except for your face." He gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about your hair. Those nanobots in your hair worked wonders. Your hair has nearly grown back to its normal length. The doctor says that it's one of their side benefits." His smile wavered and he licked his dry lips. He didn't want to go on, but Beka's pleading, frightened face made him keep on going.  
  
"However, your face was very badly damaged. Half of it, anyway. The half which wasn't exposed to the direct flames is fine, but the other half was burned beyond repair. Your skin was burned so badly there that you even lost your sight in that eye. However, the doctor gave you a cyber implant there. He says that it not only acts as a skin graft to replace the skin which was burned away, but it also includes an optic device."  
  
Beka had been holding her breath the entire time she had been listened to the Commander's stammered words. As soon as she had heard about her face and her eye, that sick panic had flooded her again as she realized that she would never see again and would never have that same, smooth, white skin which her father had always been so proud of.  
  
However, as soon as she heard the Commander say 'optic device', the panic receeded slightly and she frowned.  
  
"Optic device?" she whispered, her voice still raw.  
  
The Commander nodded, that enthusiastic smile back on his face now that he realized she was clutching at the good cards, not the bad ones. "That's what the doctor called it. Your face and your brain will still need to get adjusted to the implant, and the device can't be stressed yet, that's why we've covered the eye lens with a light cloth and that's why you can't see. But in a few days, we'll take it off and you'll be able to try seeing with it." He gave her a little grin. "We knew that this would hit you hard, so when the doctor asked if you'd want any special features attached to the device, we said yes. It has an infrared reading device, so you'll be able to tell something's temperature just by looking at it. It also has automatic zoom features in it. The doctor swears that if you're sitting at one end of the Maru's corridors, that you can zoom in close enough to see a bread crumb lying on the floor at the other end."  
  
The Commander gave her a shaky grin.  
  
Beka stared at him. Such a mix of emotions were running through her. When the Commander has first told her about her eye and her skin, that panic had crawled up her spine, sick terror clutching her. But when she'd finally forced her terrified mind to take in what he was saying, and she realized that she'd still be able to see and that she'd be fine, that panic receeded slightly.  
  
She'd still be a cyborg. She'd never have both of her shining, blue eyes again. But she'd still be able to see.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly glanced up at the Colonel, who was looking at her, judging her emotions and her reactions.  
  
The Commander was doing the same thing. Both of them had been worried to death about her reaction. They thought she'd fly off in a rage, try to rip out the implant and throw them off her ship, or that she'd completely withdraw into herself and not say a word.  
  
Both reactions had scared them.  
  
Beka knew that. Knew they expected her to freak out. To isolate herself. But she couldn't.  
  
She still had a war to fight. She had people to take care of. She had promises to keep.  
  
With a small smile tugging on the corners of her mouth, Beka looked up at the Colonel.  
  
"Well, as long I can still see, and as long as I can see what the General is doing in his ship even though he's two light years away from the Maru, I'll be fine."  
  
The Commander gave a relieved laugh. The tension evaporated from the Colonel's face, who gave her a proud nod.  
  
Beka's tense smile was starting to fade. It was damn hard to smile when she felt like falling asleep and sleeping for a year, and when all she really wanted to do was turn around, bury her face in the pillow and cry. Cry because of what she'd lost. Cry because she was afraid of what she'd see when she looked in the mirror now. Cry because she'd become a cripple.  
  
But she didn't cry. She kept on smiling. Mainly for herself, but also for the two people sitting around her who were giving her relieved looks because they knew their supreme commander was tough and could take anything.  
  
Three days later, Beka was bored out of her mind and had started threatening the Colonel with physical harm if she didn't let her get out of bed.  
  
The doctor had stopped by the very same afternoon Beka had woken up and had carefully pulled all of her bandages off. Beka had stared at her skin in amazement. The doctor had performed a miracle. Her skin was a bit pale, and there were tiny scars on her arms and one on her legs, but other than that, she couldn't tell she'd ever been in the accident.  
  
Except for her face. Beka had refused to touch the implant and had even refused to let the Colonel try to take the patch off so she could try out the device.  
  
The truth was, Beka didn't want to have to accept that yet. Accept that some parts of her would never be the same.  
  
So she stubbornly pushed that aside. The Colonel had at first raised an eyebrow and told her that she disapproved of that immensely, and had later even resorted to pleading with her, but Beka had just shook her head and then later snapped that she'd take off the patch whenever she felt like it.  
  
But after three days of sitting on a bed, playing solitaire by herself and grumbling at the Colonel, she finally declared that she'd get up herself if the Colonel didn't help her.  
  
The Colonel stared down at her, crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
"You know what the doctor said, Captain. He said quite clearly that you should stay in bed until tomorrow—"  
  
"I know what he said, Colonel." Beka snapped, irritated. "But I'm going to go insane if I have to sit here a moment longer and play solitaire by myself. I'm perfectly fine, all of my limbs feel great and I'm going to get up whether you help me or not."  
  
The Colonel frowned at her, as always completely unmoved by her outbursts of anger.  
  
"I'll help you up, if you take off the patch."  
  
Beka paused and stared up at her.  
  
Slowly, she sighed. Fine. She'd have to do this sooner or later. She might as well get it over with. Besides, it didn't mean she had to look in a mirror, or touch her face. It just meant she would try out what her new eye felt like.  
  
"Fine." She mumbled. She was about to reach up and remove the patch, but as soon as her fingers grazed the cold metal of the implant, her fingers recoiled.  
  
The Colonel's blank face expression didn't change but she reached forward and gently took off the patch.  
  
A suddenly blaze of light hit Beka's eye and momentarily blinded her. She cried out and yanked her hands up to the implant to shield it from more light.  
  
Shaking from the shock, she slowly lowered her fingers, letting the implant get used to the light.  
  
When she had finally lowered her fingers, she stared around the room in amazement.  
  
With her left eye, she could see everything normally. The colors, shapes and textures of the things around her looked completely normal. With her other eye, nothing looked the same. The brightness of the light in the room was too strong for the device to read, so it automatically dimmed all the light which filtered through it. Everything Beka saw out of that eye was dimmed. But it was also much clearer and much sharper than anything she saw out of her other eye.  
  
She stared around. Everything was bathed in an eerie green light. She looked around the room, and was amazed that no matter where she looked, whether she looked down at her hands or across the room at the door, she could see every detail. Every thread, every scratch, every dent. She felt as if she was standing right next to everything she was looking at.  
  
It was amazing. For a moment she wondered how she could see everything so clearly, but when she swung her head around fast enough and focused her eye on something further away, she could hear a little machine whirring in her mind, and the device immediately zoomed in towards the object.  
  
She glanced up at the Colonel. For the first time, the eerie green light which surrounded all other objects changed. As she stared at the Colonel, she saw shades of light green surrounding the Colonel. Around her stomach and her head there were dull shades of orange and yellow. Around her hand where she was clutching a hot cup of coffee, the light was a bright shade of red with small hints of blue.  
  
Beka smiled.  
  
The Colonel saw the smile. "So, I take it that it works."  
  
Beka nodded. "Does it ever. This is amazing. It's almost better than before." She kept on staring around until she finally had enough of her new eye.  
  
She glanced up at the Colonel. "So, you going to help me up, or what?"  
  
The Colonel put down her cup of coffee on the table and gently slid one of her shoulders underneath Beka's arm.  
  
Beka clutched the bed with her other hand and slowly, with the Colonel holding her up and pulling her and with Beka pushing herself up, she stood up.  
  
Slowly, they started shuffling out of the room, Beka gradually getting the feeling back into her legs. By the time they reached the door, Beka could take mini steps by herself. When she reached the door, she grabbed hold of the doorframe.  
  
Both of them were breathing hard from the exertion. The Colonel was leaning against the wall, but hadn't let go of her tight grip on Beka's arm.  
  
Beka briefly glanced over her shoulder at the Colonel's coffee cup. The dull green of the table upon which she'd set her cup had a ring of red on it where the cup stood. As Beka looked at the bright red glow from the cup, she noticed it was fainter than it had been the last time she'd checked.  
  
She turned to the Colonel, still gasping for breath. "Your coffee's getting cold."  
  
The Colonel stared at her. A small smile flickered across her face before she shook her head wryly and pushed herself off the door.  
  
"Come on, Captain. Let's get you into the kitchen."  
  
Smiling, both of them shuffled slowly down the corridor.  
  
* * * * * (a week later) * * * * *  
  
Beka and the Colonel were sitting in the kitchen, sharing a pizza which one of the Mobius officers had dropped by just a few minutes ago. They sat there, munching and sipping cups of beer.  
  
The Colonel was staring out of a side window at the distant shapes of nearby fighters which hovered around them.  
  
Beka had a flexi beside her on the table and was punching around on it. The General had hailed her earlier in a completely panic because Sinti had contacted him and asked how many more forces they'd be needing. Of course, the General had no idea. Instead of paying attention to such details at meetings, he spent most of his time biting his nails and whining about how all of their plans seemed risky and unsafe. Beka had just sighed and said she'd get him the figures by tomorrow morning.  
  
The Colonel suddenly glanced down at her. "Captain, would you mind grabbing me a hairbrush from the bathroom?" she asked.  
  
Beka looked up and stared at her across the table. "Why don't you go get it?" she mumbled, taking a sip of her beer.  
  
The Colonel just gave her that cold, fishy stare. Beka rolled her eye and pushed herself up and stalked out of the kitchen. "Some people are just so damn lazy." She called back over shoulder.  
  
She'd walked down the corridor and stepped into the bathroom. She started rummaging around the sink and in the drawers, looking for her hairbrush.  
  
Crouching on her heels, she yanked open the cupboard and with her special eye quickly looked through it, easily glancing into the darkest corners. She saw small clusters of mothballs and scratches in the metal surfaces, but no brush.  
  
Sighing, she pushed herself up and looked up and found herself looking into the mirror.  
  
She froze and stared at her reflection. Quickly, she spun to the side so she could only see her good half in the mirror.  
  
She stared at herself, slowly starting to shake. Over the past week she'd always avoided looking into the mirror or looking into anything else which would show her what she looked like. She hadn't wanted to see. She hadn't wanted to know.  
  
She stared at her reflection. The good side of her reflection. Her blond hair still framed her face, some strands falling across her face but most being tugged behind her ears. Her smooth white skin still shone under the light flooding the room. Her one blue eye still sparkled and stared back at her, defiant and tough as always. But now it had a hint of fear it it.  
  
Slowly, she turned her head until she saw her other half.  
  
Her white skin was gone. Her sparkling blue eye was gone. All that remained was that cold, black metal plate. It dug into her skin, which still looked raw where the metal had been welded into it. The smooth, cold surface covered nearly her entire face. By her forehead, or rather, where her forehead should have been, Beka saw the edges of a long, raw scar which started from her temple and disappeared underneath the metal implant. Beka stared at it.  
  
Where her eye should have been, there was a black plastic bump. Her special eye immediately zoomed in closer and Beka could see faint lights blinking behind the black plastic. She could see wires running behind it towards her brain.  
  
This was what was left of her face.  
  
As she stared, words from the past suddenly came rushing back to her. She remembered her father throwing her up into the air and catching her in this very bathroom after she'd run in to give him a kiss after his morning shower. He'd always kiss both of her cheeks and declare that she was his 'beautiful little Rocket'.  
  
Beka lifted a shaking hand to her cheek. In the place of the smooth, soft skin which her father had kissed was the hard, cold metal now. Tears brimmed her eyes.  
  
Then she remembered what Harper had said. Years ago.  
  
He'd looked at her and called her beautiful. Just like that. Nobody, asides from her father, had ever called her that.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
She started shaking as the tears started coursing down her cheeks. Her knees were shaking so badly now that she collapsed, falling against the cupboards and sobbed bitterly.  
  
God, she wanted him back. Wanted him to smile at her and tell her she was beautiful.  
  
She curled one of her hands into a fist and slammed it into the cupboard.  
  
But no. Harper would never smile at her again. Never. She had left him. He would never come back to her. She had abandoned him. She'd broken her promise to him.  
  
And nobody would ever call her beautiful ever again. Nobody.  
  
* * * * * (a week later) * * * * *  
  
Beka looked up from where she was leaning against the counter, finishing her morning coffee. The sound of an incoming hail echoed through the ship.  
  
The Colonel glanced over her shoulder at her from where she was washing the breakfast dishes.  
  
"Captain, you might as well answer it. Whoever it is, they've been hailing us for two days. It might be someone important."  
  
Beka snorted into her coffee. "Important. Probably the General whining that he doesn't like our idea of going back to Gehena."  
  
Putting her cup back onto the counter, Beka walked down the corridor towards the cockpit. She dropped herself into her chair, shook her hair out of her face and then reached up to answer the hail. She'd learned a long time ago that it was always safest to answer hails when she was sitting in her chair. Sometimes some Dragan bastard tried to hail her and distract her while readying a volley of missiles at the same time. Beka had been bitten too many times to trust an anonymous hail enough to answer it while sitting in the kitchen.  
  
The picture in her viewscreen flickered a few times, before an image of a tall, elderly Nietzschean appeared before her. Beka's eyes flashed and her back abruptly straightened. She glared up at the screen, hate flooding her veins.  
  
He gave her a cool smile as soon as he saw her. "Beka Valentine. It's been a while.I tried hailing you a few weeks ago, you know, but the Colonel informed me that you were in a tragic accident and you couldn't answer any—"  
  
"You know damn well what 'accident' I was in. You were the asshole who sent those fighters in the first place." She hissed.  
  
He shrugged, his eyes growing colder. "I decided to try and give you a taste of your own medicine. Surprising clusters of unaware ships by jumping on them out of nowhere and attacking them really isn't nice, is it?"  
  
She clenched her jaw but didn't reply.  
  
The Admiral cooly glared down at her. His eyes slowly looked her up and down, his glance stopping briefly when he saw the implant.  
  
"So, Captain, I don't take it that it has occurred to you, in your days of pain and misery and battling death, that you might have an easier time if you surrender."  
  
She glared. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Admiral, but I'm never going to surrender to you. As I told you a long time ago, I know we won't win, but I refuse to give in to you so easily. Especially now that you've done this to me." She laughed bitterly, hate in her good eye. "I am not surrendering. Not now and not ever. Not until I've destroyed each and everyone of your forces and have blown your headquarters and you all to hell and have shown you what it feels like to be burnt alive."  
  
With that, she reached up and cut her connection.  
  
Pushing herself out of her chair, her jaw still clenched she marched back down the corridor towards the kitchen.  
  
The Colonel briefly glanced up at her from where she was standing, putting the last plate back into the cupboard.  
  
"Who was it?" she asked, careful to keep her voice low. She had seen the anger on Beka's face the moment she had stormed in and knew that if she said the wrong thing, she'd fly off in a rage.  
  
Beka glared around the room. "The Admiral."  
  
The Colonel raised an eyebrow. "I take it he asked for a surrender?"  
  
Beka nodded, grabbing her cup and taking a sip of her coffee. Before she had even reached her mouth with it, she could see the green light emitting from the liquid. She glared. Damn thing was cold. Not even bothering to taste it, she slammed the cup onto the counter.  
  
"And I also take it you refused?"  
  
She nodded again. "And before you ask, yes, I told him to go to hell."  
  
The Colonel nodded, while her eyes roamed around the kitchen. The Commander had hailed her late last night to tell her about news which had reached him from a nearby planet. After hearing it, the Colonel had immediately made him swear not to tell Beka.  
  
The Commander has said he'd only do that if she promised to tell Beka as soon as possible.  
  
She glanced up at the fuming Captain. Damn, she hated doing this.  
  
But she had to.  
  
"Uhm, Captain, I have some news for you. Granted, it won't make your day any better, but I feel it's necessary to tell you."  
  
Beka glanced at her. The need for coffee had outweighed her disgust with it's temperature and she had picked up the cup again and was about to take a sip.  
  
The Colonel stared across the room at her and decided to just be blunt and blurt it out. "The Sabra-Jaguar Pride has sent more divisions to us. Their fighters and destroyers will arrive in full force in a few days and they are ready to continue the war with us."  
  
Seeing the Captain's face jerk up and stare at her in surprise, the Colonel quickly kept on talking, hoping to get all the news out before Beka could ask any questions.  
  
"The reasons behind it are quite simple. The Pride once again has an Archduke as well as an Archdutchess."  
  
Beka stared at her. "Who the hell would—"  
  
"A month ago Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar married Tyr Anasazi. He has become the head of the Pride and is in charge of all military divisions."  
  
Beka stared at the Colonel, surprise and shock engulfing her. All the blood drained from her face.  
  
They stared at each other, one in apprehension, the other in shock.  
  
The cup which Beka had been holding in her hand slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.  
  
She didn't notice. 


	11. Chapter 11

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 11  
  
* * * * * (one year later) * * * * *  
  
Three and a half years old Alaric screamed with laughter as his stepfather picked him up and flung him over his shoulders.  
  
With his habituel long strides, Tyr marched down the hallway towards the dininghall, Alaric still shouting and screeching with laughter as he bounced along on his shoulders.  
  
Tyr glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Son, one day you will bring the roof down and drive the servants insane with that voice."  
  
A servant who was shuffled past him, turned and smiled at him. She gave him a dismissive hand.  
  
"Oh, don't you worries 'bout that none, my lord. We's used to it."  
  
Tyr smiled and wryly shook his head as he strode into the dininghall. Bending down, he gently lowered Alaric to the floor. The child scampered towards the table and climbed onto his chair.  
  
Tyr had just straightened up as Elsbett walked into the room from the other door.  
  
She was carrying a small bundle in her arms. An involuntary smile crept across Tyr's face when he saw the bundle.  
  
"I'm sorry I'm late. Someone here absolutely refused to co-operate at getting changed for dinner." She said, rolling her eyes at the bundle.  
  
Tyr laughed and held out his arms. Elsbett handed her to him and went to sit down next to her son.  
  
Tyr slowly sat down beside Elsbett, the bundle in the crook of his arms.  
  
1.2 Chanhassen Bolivar of Sabra-Jaguar Pride by Elsbett Mossadim Bolivar by Tyr Anasazi smiled up at him. Tyr thought it was the most beautiful, radiant smile that anybody could have. A servant had crept up behind him and started spooning soup into his bowl.  
  
1.3 Hardly able to tear his eyes off her, Tyr looked up long enough to signal the servant to stop pouring soup into his bowl before it overflowed.  
  
The servant bowed slightly and quickly made her way over to Elsbett's bowl, and then Alaric.  
  
As soon as his bowl had been filled, Alaric reached across the table and gingerly took a piece of bread out of the basket sitting in the middle of the table. With dainty fingers, he started ripping the bread into tiny, square sized pieces and lining them up on his plate.  
  
As Tyr watched, the child picked up his fork and pierced one of the squares and dipped it into his soup before gingerly putting it into his mouth and chewing.  
  
Tyr smiled. The child was exactly like his father had been. Not only did Alaric have his father's twinkling, brown eyes and his blond hair, but he had the same personality. Constantly acting as though he was living among kings and queens and not just his parents, the child had a never ending perfectionists drive towards displaying and possessing an immaculate show of manners, no matter where he was or what he was doing. No matter if he was eating dinner, watching a movie, or playing with friends, he refused to allow anybody around him to sneeze without having a handkerchief nearby, slouch, or forget to say 'thank you' or 'please'. Elsbett always shook her head in amazement, noting that it was impossible how little of her had carried into the child. When Alaric had heard this, he told her 'not to worry about it or feel too distressed, since it wasn't so bad to have at least one person in the family who remembered to straighten his shirt and pants after standing up from the table.' Tyr had laughed uproaringly at this and Elsbett had blinked at her son, completely speechless.  
  
Tyr swallowed a mouthful of soup and then put down his spoon. Chanhassen had started wriggling in his arm, punching her little hands into the air and glaring up at him. She had her mother's eyes. But the rest of her was so much like a female version of himself that it often astounded him. She hardly ever cried when something upset her or when she was hungry. She would simply punch her hands into the air or tightly hang onto anybody who came near her and held on, staring at them with her fierce, brown eyes until they gave her what she wanted. When something displeased her, she'd either push it away or close her eyes and refuse to look at it.  
  
Tyr and Elsbett couldn't believe how much of them had been carried into her.  
  
It was amazing.  
  
Chanhassen grabbed onto Tyr's sleeve and started yanking on it, glaring up at her. Tyr looked down at her. She must be hungry.  
  
Dipping a finger into the soup, he blew on it to make sure it was cool enough and then brought his finger over to her and stuck it into her mouth.  
  
Still glaring at him, she grasped her tiny fingers around his and sucked on it.  
  
Tyr smiled down at her.  
  
Elsbett raised her eyebrows, a small smile on her lips. "If she throws up all over her bedcovers tonight because of that soup, then you're cleaning it up." She muttered.  
  
Tyr laughed and briefly glanced up at her. "Gladly."  
  
Elsbett glanced around the table, her gaze landing on her son who was still piercing the bread pieces with a fork and then neatly dipping them into his soup.  
  
She stared at him helplessly. "Alaric, you know it won't kill you to eat bread with your fingers. It's perfectly normal."  
  
Alaric sighed and glanced up at his mother. "Mother, if food was meant to be eaten with your fingers, then nobody would have ever made utensils." Without another word, he turned back to his bread.  
  
Elsbett sighed and rolled her eyes and went back to eating her soup.  
  
Tyr glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.  
  
He couldn't believe how much she'd changed over the course of the year.  
  
He'd left her alone for 3 months after making his proposition. He knew she'd accept it, but he knew she still needed time to heal.  
  
After 3 months, he'd come back and calmly asked her if she had thought about it. She'd nodded and then told him her in-laws couldn't wait to meet him and ask him when the wedding day would be.  
  
They'd married a week later. A month later, Elsbett had breathlessly informed him that she was pregnant with Chanhassen.  
  
Her in-laws had immediately accepted Tyr as part of the family, especially after he had promised that Alaric, Elsbett and Chanhassen would keep the name 'Bolivar' and that Tyr himself would take on the Sabra-Jaguar title.  
  
Her in-laws had been easy. Her son was harder. He had had a hard time accepting that his father was dead, and had a much harder time accepting that Tyr was going to be his father now. Tyr had crouched down, looked him in the eye and told him that he was not replacing his father. He was simply going to be another father to him. The child had stared at him and then asked him if that meant he didn't have to stop loving his father. Tyr had shaken his head and said that he would never have to do that, and that when the time came, it was also alright to love two fathers.  
  
The child had smiled, obvious relief on his face. Since then, the stepfather and son had grown closer. Being more used to the stiff politeness of his grandparents and the reclusive silence of his grieving mother, the child hadn't laughed in months. Tyr changed that. Running around the house, wrestling with him, going 'hunting' through the backwoods, Tyr quickly taught the child how to laugh and have fun, and how to get extremely dirty and smile his way out of it. His grandparents had raised their eyebrows disapprovingly, but Elsbett had smiled and said that no other sound was more beautiful than the laughter of ones children.  
  
Elsbett had been another person whose acceptance he needed.  
  
Having known each other for years before getting married, they got along easily. Having a lot in common and having similar backgrounds, they often talked with each other without exchanging any words and they both made the same decisions where anything about the military or the Pride was concerned. They could laugh together too. They both understood each other without really trying and they were so comfortable around each other that most of the servants whispered amongst each other that they acted as if they had been married for decades, and not just a year.  
  
But when it came to love, it was something they never did and never would share.  
  
Tyr didn't love Elsbett. He never had. He cared about her deeply and was as protective of her as a husband should be, but he never loved her. He knew that he could have easily fallen in love with her, but for her sake, he refrained from doing so.  
  
Elsbett still loved Charlemagne. From the way she spoke and acted around Tyr and everyone else, it was impossible for anyone to see that neither of them loved the other, but Tyr knew that her heart would always belong to Charlemagne.  
  
She'd wake up in the middle of the night, crying out for him, and then would collapse in tears when she'd realize he wasn't there. Tyr would always roll over and hold her in his arms, stroking her tears away and telling her that it was alright.  
  
She still wore the black pearls. She hadn't taken them off since the day Beka had told her Charlemagne was dead, and Tyr knew she never would take them off. It had driven her in-laws insane. They knew she was grieving but said that she could at least grieve in more fashionable jewelry. Tyr had come to his wife's defense and had abruptly told them that his wife could wear any jewelry she saw fit. Besides, he told them, he found the black pearls beautiful.  
  
He knew he would never have his wife's heart, but he found he didn't need it. They cared for each other and were as protective over each other as two married people could be. They understood each other without a fault, and, despite everything, had the best marriage the Sabra-Jaguar Pride had ever seen.  
  
Whenever Tyr heard this, he would snort and quietly remark that this didn't account for much, since this was the same family which contained the marriage of Beatricia and Admiral Cuatemoc.  
  
Elsbett had nearly spat out her dinner at that remark and had made him swear never to say that to her in-law's faces.  
  
Laughing, he'd reached over and wiped a smudge of soup off her cheek and promised to keep his thoughts to himself.  
  
The door slid open and Tyr slowly walked onto the Med deck. It was eerily quiet. He glanced around himself, wondering why he couldn't hear the hum of the machines and the beeping of the heart monitor which was attached to the thin, still figure lying on the bed.  
  
He walked closer to the bed, gliding like a ghost across the floor.  
  
He stood there and waited until he saw the boy open his eyes. Saw the sadness within their blue depths. Saw the resignation.  
  
Fingering his force lance, he pulled it out of the holster and started keying in the settings. Meanwhile the boy was staring at him. "Tyr, isn't there even the slightest chance that Trance could come up with something? Something that might save me?"  
  
He felt himself shake his head. "No."  
  
Harper looked up at him, confusion in his eyes. "But Trance said that she was close to finding a—"  
  
"No." He interupted him. He realized that he had spoken without being aware of what he had said. He held up the force lance and felt it charging.  
  
Slowly, he brought it down to the boy's temples. Harper was shaking, staring at him with terrified eyes.  
  
"Tyr, please don't do this. Please! Trance said she'd found something—"He was hysterical now, nearly screaming at him.  
  
"No." He felt himself say again. He said it coldly, with no emotion. No hint of caring.  
  
He put his finger on the release button.  
  
"Tyr! Please! Just wait a minute! Please! Trance said that she'd—"  
  
"No."  
  
He pushed the button. He heard the shot. It echoed wildly around the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his skull until he felt his head would explode.  
  
He glanced down at the figure on the bed.  
  
Harper's wide, terrified eyes were still staring at him, pleading with him why he'd done it. Staring at him with horror. With pain. With confusion.  
  
Just then, Trance came running into Med deck, holding a vial in her hands.  
  
"Tyr! Don't shot—" her voice broke off as she saw the Harper lying on the bed, blood from the wound spreading across the stark white bed sheet.  
  
Her eyes widened and she turned to stare at Tyr. That same horror, pain and confusion was in her eyes.  
  
"Tyr, why did you do it? I had the cure."  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
The words rammed around Tyr's skull until he felt he would go insane. The force lance dropped form his fingers.  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
Why did you do it?  
  
Tyr! Please! Just wait a minute!  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
Suddenly, he saw Beka lunging for him, wild tears of grief running down her face, her eyes filled with hot, raw rage.  
  
"You killed him! You killed him! Murderer!" he heard her scream hysterically, her hands oustretched like claws as she tried madly lunging at him.  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
Why did you do it?  
  
Tyr! Please! Just wait a minute!  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
"Tyr! Please! Wake up! Come on. Wake up!"  
  
Tyr's eyes flew open and he nearly leapt out of bed. Wide eyed, he stared around himself. Gasping for breath, he quickly realized that he was not standing on Med deck, that he was lying in his bed and that he had been dreaming.  
  
Breathing hard, his eyes still terrified, he stared down at Elsbett.  
  
She was sitting up, a hand gently laid on his arm.  
  
She was staring at him, concern in her eyes. "Are you alright?"  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
Weakly, he nodded. It was just a dream. Just a dream. He slowly shook his head, trying to shake the image of the Med deck, the still body lying on the bed, Trance standing there holding that vial and Beka lunging for him, hysterical with grief and anger.  
  
Briefly closing his eyes, he pushed that image aside.  
  
Running a shaking hand through his hair he smiled weakly at Elsbett. "I'm fine." He choked out.  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
Why did you do it?  
  
He nodded again. "I'm fine. Really."  
  
She was still frowning at him, worry in her eyes. She gently stroked his arm. "Was it the same nightmare?" she asked quietly.  
  
Leaning back against the headboards, Tyr closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.  
  
The cure…the cure… the cure…  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. It's always the same one."  
  
She squeezed his arm. "The one about Harper?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She bit her lip. Tyr had been having that same nightmare for the entire year they had shared a bed. It used to happen much more frequently, with him waking up nearly every night, screaming and muttering something about a cure. Now they were less frequent. But they still happened. She had asked him what they were about, but he had just shaken his head and said she wouldn't understand. All that she could get out of him was that it had something to do with Harper.  
  
She stroked his arm.  
  
"Tyr, you know that Harper has been dead for nearly three years, don't you?"  
  
Weakly, Tyr nodded without opening his eyes.  
  
He had hardly heard her. All that kept going through his head was Trance's horrified, confused voice.  
  
"Tyr, why did you do it? I had the cure."  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut harder, hoping to block out those pictures, those sounds. But they never left him. No matter where he went, or how much time went by. They never left.  
  
That gnawing guilt. That eternal, never seizing guilt. That constant feeling in his gut that they could have done something else. That bitter taste in his mouth that he had been wrong. That he had really killed him. That Harper could be alive today if it hadn't been for him.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaws, determined not to let his bitter tears course down his cheeks.  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
Why did you do it?  
  
The cure..the cure…the cure…  
  
Beka nearly tore the control out of the floor as she yanked her ship over as a small volley of blazing missiles hissed past her.  
  
Pushing her hair out of her face, Beka glanced at her screen. Shit. Reinforcements. She swore out loud now. Yanking her ship around, she spied a Dragan fighter chasing a Castalian fighter.  
  
"Oh, no you don't, you son of a bitch." She muttered between clenched teeth and sent off a barrage of missiles towards the fighter.  
  
She watched with immense satisfaction as it blew up. "Take that, you sucker—" she hissed, moments before being violently thrown forward as her ship was hit.  
  
Turning her ship around, she wearily forced her old ship to move out of the way. She quickly dodged around a pack of Perseid fighters which were trying to keep the reinforcement Dragans from leaving the slipstream portal they were still streaming out of.  
  
Beka bit her lip as she sent off another volley. Things weren't looking good. She glanced at her screen. More and more Dragans were showing up.  
  
As another volley hit her ship, sparks flew down from the ceiling and rained down on her. Beka kept a tight grip on her control and bit her teeth as the seatbelt dug into her sides as it struggled to hold her down against the shock.  
  
She wondered for a moment why she couldn't hear her emergency siren. Then she realized it had turned on long ago and that she hadn't heard it.  
  
Without having to think about it, she fired on a cluster of Dragan ships heading towards her. Without looking if she had hit them, she glanced over her shoulder.  
  
"Colonel!" she yelled over the blaring of the siren and the hissing of leaking pipes behind her.  
  
The Colonel grabbed hold of the railing in front of her as they were hit again. She glanced at the screen beside her.  
  
"We're leaking anti-protons, Captain! I suggest calling the—"  
  
Reaching up, Beka hailed the Commander. "I'm on it, Colonel."  
  
As the Commander's pale face appeared in her screen, she gave him a tense nod. "Now, Commander! You know what to do!" She yelled up at him.  
  
He nodded tensely, biting his lip nervously before disappearing off her screen again.  
  
As Beka dodged among the floating debris of destroyed ships and the fighters of her forces and the few Dragan fighters which were zooming all over the place, picking off as many of their guys as they could, she sent off another volley. She swore when she realized she'd aimed too wide and missed her mark.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a Perseid fighter explode. Gritting her teeth, she yanked her tired ship around and fired on the Dragan ships which had destroyed the fighter and was now running.  
  
"That's right, you bastard. Run." She hissed, watching her missiles hit the fighter and blow it to pieces.  
  
"Captain!" she heard the Colonel screaming at her.  
  
"What?" Beka yelled back.  
  
"There's even more fighters coming! They've just left slipstream. I suggest we retreat!"  
  
Beka shook her head. Not yet. No way. Not until she nailed a few more.  
  
Glaring in front of her, she shoved the control further and forced her ship to speed up, racing towards a cluster of Dragan ships. Readying another barrage, she pressed the red button on her control and fired on them.  
  
As she watched her missiles hit home, she was hit again. Nearly tearing the seatbelt which kept her on her chair, Beka's hand which wasn't attached to the control grabbed the navigation screen to keep herself sitting.  
  
She bit her lip and swore. She quickly glanced down on her screen. There were more Dragans coming. There were always more Dragans coming. They never stopped coming.  
  
She stared at her screen, where the little green blips of her forces were now scattered everywhere and trying desperately to dodge between the huge masses of Dragan destroyers and fighters which were trying to corner them. She swore again. They had to retreat.  
  
"Captain! We have to get out of here!" The Colonel screamed at her over the blaring of the siren.  
  
Beka nodded. Reaching up, she hailed the General.  
  
As soon as his wide eyed, terrified face filled her screen, she screamed up at him to run.  
  
He blinked at her. "Now?"  
  
She stared at him. "Yes, now! We're being blown to pieces, General!"  
  
A brave little smile covered his face. "But we could still take them, Captain." He declared, raising his chin.  
  
Beka rolled her eyes. "General, are you dumb? Nobody could take those ships! Nobody! Now get your ass our of here and run before they blow you to pieces!"  
  
Cutting her connection to him, she hailed the Commander.  
  
He stared at her. "May we run now, Captain?" he stammered, his voice shaking.  
  
She nodded. He gave her a weak smile. "Which portal should we run to, Captain?" he yelled over to her.  
  
She glanced down at her screen. "The one which leads to Cintaria!" she screamed up at him.  
  
He nodded before turning around and yelling for someone to find Cintaria on the map.  
  
Quickly, Beka cut her connection to him and then hailed the guy who was in charge of the Sabra-Jaguar forces. As soon as his blank face appeared on the screen, she yelled up at him to retreat. He just calmly nodded at her before turning to his pilot and asking them to 'tone down the attack'. Beka nearly started screaming at him that he was a moron and that when she said run she meant run, not crawl, but she swallowed that.  
  
Instead, she cut off her connection to him and grabbed her control and went hurling through space towards the portal closest to her.  
  
This was the only part of the fighting which all her forces were superb at. Running away while firing like crazy.  
  
Hundreds of their fighters hurled through space, flying at insane speeds to the portal which led to Cintaria. Some of them towed the fighters which were too heavily damaged to fly, and some clustered in groups as they went.  
  
But none of them went quietly. As they shot towards the portals, some of the fighters in the clusters turned around and bravely fired at the Dragans pursuing them to slipstream. Some of the fighters even stayed a the mouth of the portal, firing their hearts at until the Dragans were nearly on their tails, and then they turned around and raced into slipstream.  
  
Beka dodged in between the small fighters, firing at the few Dragan fighters which had been caught up in the sea of allied fighters fleeing to the portal and were hovering in space, obviously confused. Beka grinned bitterly before she fired on them and blew them to pieces. Let the bastards be surprised.  
  
She pushed her control further, ignoring the reluctant groans of her ship and the Colonel screaming at her that flying too quickly in slipstream while leaking anti-protons was not a good idea. Surrounded by hundreds of tiny fighters all hurling through space towards the portal, still bravely firing away with everything they had, Beka reached the portal and got yanked into it.  
  
The fighters got pulled with her and they raced through the silver chains in a huge mass of ships, some of them dragging other ships behind them and some poor confused souls still firing at absolutely nothing.  
  
Finally, Beka saw her exit and yanked her ship over. Most of the fighters went with her, but some went hurling past the exit and struggled to turn themselves back towards the exit.  
  
When they reached the exit, the Maru and hundreds of other battered, exhausted ships were thrown out of the stream.  
  
After battles it was always eerily quiet among their forces.  
  
Beka slowly let go of the control and flexed her cramped hand. She let her head fall back against the piloting chair and slowly closed her eye. Taking a deep breath, she just lay in her chair.  
  
The Colonel had slid onto the floor behind her and was leaning against the wall, her head leaning back and her eyes also closed.  
  
Nearly all the pilots and officers in the fighters hovering around Beka's ship were doing the same thing.  
  
Quietly sitting in their exhausted, battered ships, ignoring the wails of emergency sirens, ignoring the stench of leaking gas, ignoring the incessant hails of some fighters which had gotten lost in slipstream, they all just sat there and quietly licked their wounds.  
  
Beka opened her eye and stared out into space. With her special eye she lazily glanced around the fighters floating beside her. She zoomed in closer and saw how badly damaged some of them were. She saw the scratches, the dents, and the holes which went right through some of their hulls. She smiled bitterly.  
  
At least they were good at that. They couldn't win any battles. They couldn't make the enemy run. They couldn't ever rub their hands in gleeful victory.  
  
But they could run away extremely well. And when it came to sitting down and licking their wounds, there wasn't a better army for it than their own.  
  
* * * * * (two months later) * * * * *  
  
Elsbett stared across the table at her husband. "You can't be serious." She said.  
  
Tyr's glance slid off her face and he stared down at the table between them. He cleared his throat and looked up at her again. He knew that she wouldn't like this. He'd always known that. But this was something he had to do.  
  
"Elsbett, try to be reasonable. We should have done this months ago—"  
  
"Months ago?" she cried.  
  
His expression hardened. "Yes, months ago. Hell, years ago."  
  
"Tyr, do you have any idea what this war means to—"  
  
"This war has always been a fools war, Elsbett. It was to begin with, and it will when it's finished."  
  
She glared at him. "Might I remind you that my husband died in this fools war?"  
  
Tyr's expression softened. "Look, I didn't mean to imply that the people fighting the war were fools. But Elsbett, you have to see that this war was a losers war to begin with. I mean, we're fighting against the most powerful military force in the known worlds. The first few battles were fine, we had enough forces and we had enough ships, but even then we were losing. And now, three years later, we're still fighting this same war, and we're still losing." He leaned forward. "And it's not going to change. More and more of our people are dying everyday because of it. We've lost hundreds of troops and ships. And all for what?" He threw his hands up. "For nothing. Absolutely nothing. We've gained nothing in this war since the day it started and everyday it's getting worse and harder to fight and there is no way in hell we are ever going to win anything in it." When her face remained cold and her eyes continued to glare coldly at him, he changed his tone.  
  
"Elsbett, please. Think of all the families who have lost their fathers, their sons, their daughters to this war. They all died for a cause which can't be won. Ever. Our chances for winning were next to nothing to begin with, but now they're getting worse everyday. We can spare our people more pain and more misery if we pull out now."  
  
She lowered her gaze. "And what of the others? Without our help they'll be even worse off then they are now."  
  
Tyr's gaze slid back down to the table. "I hope that, when we leave, that the others will have the sense enough to pull out as well." He didn't add that he knew for a fact that a certain captain would refuse to surrender. No matter what.  
  
He didn't need to. Elsbett knew too but didn't comment on it. She bit her lip. "And what of Dylan's dream? If we lose the war, then the Dragans will gain control of all the worlds which were part of his Commonwealth."  
  
Tyr raised his eyebrow. It had been quite a while since he'd heard both the name of his former captain or the word 'Commonwealth'.  
  
He sighed. "Elsbett, Dylan was never one to want to achieve his dream with blood and death. If his dream has to fade for less people to die, then so be it." He saw her clench her jaws. He leaned forward and lightly stroked her cheek. "Dylan would have wanted us to end this now." He whispered.  
  
Elsbett raised her eyes and looked up at him. "Well, I hope you're going to be able to convince other people of that." She said quietly, before standing up and walked from the room, the black pearls around her neck shining in the dim light.  
  
Tyr stared after her, before shaking his head and calling over a servant.  
  
"Yes, my lord?"  
  
"Contact that idiotic arrogant bastard we have flying up there who is in charge of our forces. Inform him that the Sabra-Jaguar Pride is pulling out of the war."  
  
"They're what?" Beka screamed, whirling around and staring wide eyed at the Commander who was cowering behind the table across from her.  
  
"Captain, please try to calm down. The message arrived just this morning."  
  
Beka glared at him. "Who the hell gave those orders?"  
  
The Commander's eyes helplessly glanced at the Colonel, pleading for her help.  
  
Seeing his terrified face, the Colonel stepped forward and laid a soothing hand on Beka's arm.  
  
"Captain, the orders were given directly by the Archduke of the Pride. He is the only one whose orders you can't overrule." She said quietly.  
  
Beka glared at her and clenched her jaw. "The Archduke?" she hissed.  
  
The Colonel nodded.  
  
Beka took a deep breath, her eyes still glaring around the room. She forced a bitter smile onto her face. "Well, if it's the Archduke whose about to cost us this war, then we'd better go see him." She snarled between clenched teeth as she whirled around and headed towards the Commander's ship's airlock. "Colonel? We're leaving in five minutes." She yelled back over shoulder.  
  
The Commander slowly edged out from underneath the table and turned to stare helplessly at the Colonel and the General, who had just gathered the courage to stick his head back into the room.  
  
The three of them stared at each other.  
  
The Commander cleared his throat. "Should we, uhm, should we…well, I don't guess this is the time yet to…I mean…"  
  
The Colonel glared at him. He shrank back and his words died on his lips.  
  
"Commander, you and I both know that this war isn't about the Dragans and that it means a lot more to her than either of us can imagine."  
  
The Commander winced. "I'm aware of that Colonel, but I'm starting to get a little worried that she'll never understand that this personal crusade of hers is killing hundreds of our troops and endangering our lives everyday. If we just gently ask her consider surrenderi—"  
  
The Colonel whirled around and stared at him coldly. "Commander, never yell at a sleepwalker. They'll only fall and break their necks." She coldly hissed him before she too, turned and disappeared from the room, leaving the two men staring at each other with wide, frightened eyes. 


	12. Chapter 12

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 12  
  
Beka marched down the hallway towards livingroom, leaving the servant shuffling after her, hissing at her to slow down and walk more politely.  
  
Ignoring her, Beka pushed open the heavy oak door and marched into the room, not caring that her dirty boots were leaving streaks on the thick white carpets.  
  
She stepped around a statue sitting beside the door, and was surprised to find herself in the same room that she had been in years ago when she had come to see Elsbett.  
  
She smiled bitterly as she noticed that the paintings hanging on the walls and the books were still the same. She could even hear the fountain gurgling in the backyard.  
  
She walked across the carpet and slowly sat down in the same chair she had sat in when she had last been in this room.  
  
She didn't wait for long. She had just gotten distracted, with her special eye zooming in to enable her to read even the dustiest and furthest away book on the shelves, but when she heard the door of the room opening and closing, she stood up, clenching her jaws.  
  
She had half expected Elsbett to sweep into the room, wearing her golden attire and having that brilliant diamond and ruby neclace around her neck.  
  
She crossed her arms across her chest and stiffened as the Archduke stepped around the statue and slowly walked across the room towards her.  
  
Both of them froze for a moment after seeing each other.  
  
Beka stared at Tyr. She hadn't seen him ever since he had left the Andromeda that day long ago. She quickly glanced over him. Despite the fact that he was now the richest man on the planet, he had changed very little. His braids still hung down his back and beside his face, and he was wearing a long and expensive looking leather trenchcoat. His boots were made from shining black leather and didn't leave a speck of dirt on the white carpet. He held his hands clasped behind his back, a habit he must have picked up from his wife.  
  
He was staring at her, that impassive, blank expression on his face that hid what he was thinking. It didn't bother her at all. After years of living with the Colonel, she was used to it. His brown eyes were staring intently at her.  
  
Beka could see something within their depths. She nearly frowned but caught herself. There was a compassion in his eyes, one which she had never seen in them before.  
  
She saw him stare at her implant, and she glared at him with her good eye.  
  
Tyr noticed the glare and quickly averted his eyes.  
  
Tyr stared at her. He hadn't seen her ever since he had left the Andromeda that day long ago. He had quickly skimmed his eyes over her. She still wore her habituel leather pants, but the bottoms of them were frayed and fithy and the dirty, scratched up boots poking out from beneath them clearly showed she hadn't been living in luxury. He frowned and wondered if she was still living on the Maru. She must be.  
  
He stared up at her face. That same defiant raise in her chin. That same stubborn glare in her eye. Only now, half of her face was covered in a black, metal implant. Tyr had been forced to keep his surprise hidden when he first saw her. As he stared at it, he could see scars covering that side of her face which disappeared behind the implant. She noticed him staring and glared at him with a bitterness and hate which Tyr didn't recognize.  
  
He quickly averted his eyes from her hideous disfigurement and stared around his livingroom instead.  
  
Finally, he looked back at her, careful to keep his eyes looking into her good eye, which was still glaring at him with anger.  
  
He cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "Well, Beka. It's good to see you again. I was about to call you Captain, but it's too unfamiliar and I wouldn't be able to get it across my lips anyway."  
  
She didn't smile. "Well, Tyr, I for one don't mind keeping the formalities dropped. After all, I don't think I could say Archduke and your name in the same sentence anyway, so I won't even bother."  
  
Tyr's eyebrows rose. She was a lot more bitter than when he had last seen her. He suspected that Harper's death and fighting a losers war for three years must have taken their toll on her. He quickly added her implant to that list.  
  
Now he could easily justify that simmering anger and bitterness which radiated from her face and her voice.  
  
He stared at her. "Beka, I'm curious. If you don't mind, how did that happen?" he nodded his chin at her face.  
  
She glared. "I do mind. Extremely. Besides, it's none of your damn business. I came here for a reason, which we'll get to right away so we can finish it and I can leave and never see your face again unless its absolutely necessary."  
  
Tyr didn't respond. He knew as well as she did why she was here. There was no need for him to play the part of the ignorant host.  
  
Beka stared at him, bitterness in her eyes. "Why are you pulling your forces out of the war?"  
  
Tyr gave her a small smile. "Beka, as you undoubtly know, this is a lost cause. It started out as a lost cause and it will end as one."  
  
When she didn't respond, he continued. "Your little army hasn't won a single battle in over two years and has lost more crew, ships and equipment in every battle than the Dragans have combined." He shrugged easily. "This is my Pride now and it's in my best interest to protect them. I refuse to continue sending more of them to die in a lost cause in a war which they don't even have a slight chance in."  
  
She stared at him. "You can't do that." She said, her voice flat and hard.  
  
Tyr's eyes remained on her face. "Yes, I can. And I did. Beka, I know that my forces were your strongest cards in this war, but I refuse to sacrifice more of my Pride for this pathetic fools escapade of yours."  
  
"Fools escapade? This is Dylan's dream!" she snarled.  
  
Tyr's patience snapped. "Dylan is dead, and so is his dream!" he yelled. "Besides, even if his dream might live, it would only exist from the blood and deaths of hundreds of people, and that is a price that Dylan would never accept, and that I will never accept."  
  
Beka clenched her jaws and took a deep breath. "Well," she said quietly, her voice shaking. "I didn't really expect you to understand. After all, you never did give a damn about you hurting your friends or killing their dreams." She laughed harshly. "Hell, you never even cared about killing them."  
  
A cold shudder went down Tyr's back. "Beka, don't go there." He said in a low voice, that guilt flooding his heart and threatening to engulf him. He glared at her. "Don't you dare drag Harper into this!" he snarled through clenched teeth.  
  
Beka's eyes flashed as her patience snapped too. "I will drag Harper into this if I have to. If you pull the Pride out, you're going to leave the rest of us to be blown to pieces by the Dragans, and you know it—"  
  
"If you would stop this damn stubborn crusade of yours and surrender, then you'll be spared that."  
  
She laughed at that. "Damn stubborn crusade? Is that what keeping promises is to you Tyr? A burden?" she spat. "Well, you always make sure to get rid of those burdens real fast, don't you? Even if if means killing your friends." She laughed at him, the laughter bitter and harsh. "You're a coward, Tyr. A damn coward. Harper didn't need to die that day. He could have lived. But you didn't want to have to spend your time fighting for him, you didn't want to waste precious emotions trying to save him. No, you just killed him." She screamed, that same hysteria her voice that Tyr had heard before.  
  
"You killed him! You killed him! Murderer!"  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
Tyr violently shook his head, forcing those thoughts back. He forced himself to look back at Beka and keep those nightmares at bay.  
  
He stared at Beka. After he let her words sink in, he suddenly started to laugh.  
  
"Woman! Are you never going to let go? There was nothing we could do for Harper that day, and you know it! Are you going to spend the rest of your life chasing after ghosts and risking your life to keep promises just because you couldn't save him?" He laughed. "You're pathetic!"  
  
Her eyes flashed again. "I'm not the one who abandoned and killed my friends."  
  
He laughed again. "No. You just drag them through hell with you!" he yelled back. Whirling around, his trenchcoat flying around his boots, he strode towards the door.  
  
Just before he reached it, he turned back around, his face slightly calmer and his voice lower.  
  
"I'm contacting my forces tonight. They'll leave immediately, and I swear, woman..—" he raised a shaking finger at her. "If you try anything idiotic and try to stop them, I will order them to blow that rustbucket junk yard of yours to pieces. Perhaps then you can chase your promises in peace without killing hundreds of people along the way." He spat, before walking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
Beka marched down the long corridor towards the Than General's office. Along the way, she swallowed nervously and tried to ignore the funny readings her eye was getting from the infrared signatures of the Than she passed by.  
  
Right after she'd stormed out of Tyr's livingroom, she'd completely forgotten about what he had said. The only coherent thought coursing through her mind asides from that usual little voice hissing"You abandoned him! You broke your promise! You left him!", was the sick fear in her stomach that their next battle would be suicide. They needed another player on their board. And quickly.  
  
After quickly dismissing the names of small, insignificant races which would eagerly join her, she had thought of the one race which was superior to the Dragans, which had a bigger fleet and more troops than the Dragans.  
  
A huge smile had stretched across her face. The Than. Of course!  
  
After leaping on board the Maru, Beka had immediately run towards the cockpit, screaming over her shoulder at the Colonel that they were flying directly to San-Ska-Ree.  
  
Beka paused in front of a large, wooden door and knocked politely before hearing a raspy "Come in" from the other side.  
  
Pushing the door open, Beka walked in. She glanced at the ruby Than sitting behind the desk. The Colonel had yelled the General's name after her just before she had leapt off the Maru, but as usual, Beka had payed no attention and couldn't for the life of her remember what the damn Than's name was. Oh well. That didn't matter. All that mattered was how many troops she would give Beka.  
  
She gave the Than a polite nod. "General. Thank you for agreeing to take the time to speak with me in person on such short notice."  
  
The Than nodded. "I heard you came straight from the Sabra-Jaguar homeworld. I thought I owed it to you to at least let you have five minutes of my time, however, I doubt this meeting will take very long."  
  
Beka frowned. That was not the introduction she had been waiting for. She pasted another smile on her face. "General, I doubt this will be a short meeting." She said, trying to keep her voice light.  
  
The Than sitting in front of her twittered in annoyance. Beka shut her mouth abruptly.  
  
"Captain, I know why you are here. You came here because you are in dire need of another card on your table." The Than cocked her head to the side and stared at her. "I understand that. I also appreciate your devoutness to your troops. However, Captain, I hate to inform you that we are already fighting this war with you. Or against you. It doesn't really matter. We don't have sides."  
  
Beka frowned, completely confused. "I beg your pardon, General?"  
  
The Than twittered again and threw her head back, obviously irritated by her ignorance.  
  
"Captain, do you have any idea how many people a war hurts? Especially people who either have no sides in the war or have no say in it? Do you?"  
  
Beka frowned, staring at the Than. "I don't underst—"  
  
"You do, only you don't want to accept it. You know precisely what I'm talking about. For the past three years, your little army has been flying all over the known worlds attacking Dragan divisions. However, very little of the Drago-Katzov taskforce was sent to fight your forces. Most of them were sent directly to the defenseless planets of the late Captain Hunt's Commonwealth, whose fleets were busy fighting by your side. The Dragans have bombarded and terrorized these planets for years now. They kill, rape, loot and burn everyone and everything they can get their hands on on these defenseless planets." The Than paused, glaring at her. "We have been busy trying to help the innocent victims of these attacks which your war has left behind in its wake. We have set up 560 refugee camps in total, sent 2300 medical convoys, and countless, countless numbers of food convoys." She paused, letting her words sink in with Beka.  
  
Beka was staring at the Than in shock. She had had no idea. Sure, she had always known that the Dragans they were fighting couldn't possibly be the entire fleet, but she had no idea that they were wrecking this much havoc around the known worlds.  
  
The Than glanced at her, obviously seeing her shock. "I'm surprised you don't know. One of your former crewmembers works with us. She's been with us for over two years now. I believe…what was her name again? It's escaped me. What in the hail of all shadows was—"  
  
Beka stared at her, her eyes widening. Trance. "Trance." She blurted out.  
  
The Than waved a finger at her. "That's it. Trance. Trance Gemini. What a remarkable woman! She's been doing the work of an army for the past two years." She paused when she saw how distressed Beka still was.  
  
Clasping her hands together, the General leaned forward.  
  
"Captain, I have spent the last three years of my life desperately trying to save the thousands of innocent people you have left behind in your wake and never even thought about." Her voice was lower now, a hint of anger in it. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, coming in here and asking me if I'd like to join you." She laughed. It was the most horrid sound Beka had ever heard. "I have never met anyone so selfish and self-centered in my entire life. Now," the General jerked her head over to the door. "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to get out of this office and off this planet. I have a relief convoy to inspect. It's going straight to Castalia."  
  
Shock still engulfing her, Beka hardly heard a word which the General had said. But she had heard the anger. Heard the resentment.  
  
With shaking arms, Beka pushed herself out of her chair and walked towards the door. She was going to thank the General for her time, but couldn't force a single word to come out of her mouth.  
  
Staring around the room in confusion and shock, Beka walked towards the door and stumbled down the corridor.  
  
She didn't make it back to the Maru. She managed to walk down the corridor until she'd reached the front hall of the building she was in, and then promptly fell against the wall.  
  
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  
  
She stared at the wall in front of her. She wasn't aware of the Than and the few humans who walked down the hallway past her, some of them ignoring her, others staring down at her with curiousity or worry.  
  
Beka didn't see them. She didn't hear them. All she could hear were the General's cold, resentful words.  
  
"I have spent the last three years of my life desperately trying to save the thousands of innocent people you have left behind in your wake and never even thought about."  
  
Beka shuddered and pulled her knees closer to her. It was true. Never once over all these years had she taken the time to think about those people. The people who were suffering because of her.  
  
She frowned in confusion. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Go back to the General and say she was sorry? No. She slowly shook her head. The Than would probably shot her.  
  
What else?  
  
A single word flashed across her mind. A word she had been dreading. A word which she had never allowed herself to think.  
  
Surrender. She could surrender.  
  
But before she had even had time to mull that over, that little, nagging voice was back in her head.  
  
"You want to surrender? You want to break another promise you made? Dylan's promise? Are you going to break that like you broke the other promise? Are you going to abandon this war just like you abandoned Harper?" that voice hissed.  
  
Fear flooded her. No. She couldn't surrender. No. She couldn't—wouldn't—break another promise. No.  
  
Regaining her strength, she shoved all thoughts of those people she was hurting from her mind.  
  
Slowly, she pushed herself off the floor and stumbled towards the door.  
  
She wasn't giving up. She couldn't. She had abandoned Harper, there was no way she was going to abandon this war too.  
  
"You want to what?" The Commander cried, staring at her as if Beka had gone insane. Beka scowled at him.  
  
"You heard me, Commander. We're going back to Gehena tomorrow and launching another assault on the headquarters."  
  
The General stared at her with terrified eyes. "B—But Captain! They'll slaughter us! Especially there! Please! Try to think straight here! It's suicide."  
  
Beka raised an eyebrow at him. "General, kindly go and stammer your cowardly nonsense in your own ship." She said, her voice dull and flat.  
  
The General gaped at her, at a complete loss for words.  
  
Beka quickly glanced around at her three military leaders. "We're leaving in an hour and streaming directly there. We should be right beside the planet by tonight." She stared each one of them in the eyes until all of their glances fell and they were staring at the floor. "We attack first thing tomorrow morning. Any complaints? General? Commander?"  
  
None of them said a word.  
  
Beka continued staring at them, irritation in her eyes. "If any of you don't want to fight tomorrow, feel free to tell me now and leave. I won't stop you."  
  
The General swallowed hard. "Captain, I never meant to say I'm deserting you. I only meant to say this is a foolish and dangerous—" his voice drifted off at her glare. Swallowing again, he looked her straight in the eye. "But I still owe my life to you, and if you say we fight, then we fight."  
  
The Commander also glanced at her. "Captain, as always, you tell me where to fight, and I'll be there. I'm in this until the end. I promised you that at the very beginning, and I'm keeping that promise."  
  
The Colonel held her chin up. Beka turned and stared at her. Both of them stared at each other. They didn't need to speak. Beka already knew what she would say. She had sworn to stay by Beka's side no matter what, and there she would stay. There was absolutely no need to put that into words.  
  
Giving the three of them a final look, Beka turned around and walked from the room.  
  
The three military leaders were left there, staring either at the door through which Beka had disappeared or the floor.  
  
The Commander slammed his hand onto the table. The Colonel glared at him. "Commander, I suggest keeping your emotions in check."  
  
He shook his head, his eyes filled with a weariness and sadness which had never been in them before. "It's not that I care very much whether we lose tomorrow or not. I know we will. Hell, I don't even care if we die tomorrow or not. But I can't stand seeing her killing herself while running after ghosts and trying to mend one broken promise by keeping another." He said quietly.  
  
The Colonel glared at him again. The General looked at both of them. "Look, we all know that one day she'll see. One day, everything will finally click and she'll be forced to open her eyes and see. Until then, our hands are tied. All we can do is stand by and hope she doesn't get herself killed until she's completely aware of who she is really fighting here."  
  
The three silently nodded their heads. They were all tired. Tired to death of this war, of the constant fighting and the constant failures. But their loyalities to Beka prevented them from leaving her and their hearts prevented them from slapping her across the face and yellling at her until she finally woke up from her shattered dream.  
  
Beka madly tore her control around, yanking her shaking ship out of the way as three Dragan fighters went hurling past her.  
  
Turning around, she readied a volley and then fired after them. She swore as she missed them. Before she had time to turn around, a destroyer behind her had fired on her.  
  
She was violently thrown forward, the seatbelt digging into her ribs and her ship shaking as she was hit.  
  
Her emergency siren was blaring again. Red lights were blinking on the screen beside her, telling her that she was leaking anti-protons and that her AG system was on critical.  
  
She gritted her teeth. She didn't care. All she cared about was blowing that planet and everyone on it to pieces.  
  
She jerked her ship around a cluster of Castalian ships which were trying to dodge around a large destroyer and fire on it at the same time.  
  
Glancing down on her screen, she saw more of her green blips disappear off the screen. Swearing, she was thrown forward as she was hit again. She kept her grip on the control, her fingers nearly breaking from her death grip on it.  
  
Reaching up, she punched on the viewscreen, hailing the Commander.  
  
Smoke was pouring around her cockpit from a busted pipe somewhere. She squinted through it, trying to see the screen clearly. Her special eye zoomed in closer.  
  
Finally, the Commander's anxious face appeared above her.  
  
"Commander!" she screamed over the wailing of her siren and the explosions outside. "Now! Fly low and get rid of the huge destroyers!"  
  
He gave her a firm nod, and turning to his pilot and yelling at him to tell their fleet to move out.  
  
Beka reached up, and with a shaking hand turned off the screen.  
  
They had been at it for nearly half an hour. It was way worse than Beka had expected. Reinforcements had flown up from the planet the instant the first missile was launched, and they were completely surrounded.  
  
As Beka desperately yanking her ship out of the way of a barrage of missiles flying towards her, her old ship groaned and shuddered as it wearly moved over.  
  
Swearing, Beka shoved the control further, dodging around the carrerring form of an out of control Perseid fighter and the dead hulls of that cluster of Castlian ships which had been bravely pounding away at the destroyer.  
  
While Beka glanced down at her screen again, she didn't notice the missiles heading her way.  
  
With a sickening thud, they slammed into the Maru. Beka's hand was torn from the control and she slammed her head on the side of her chair. Another red light turned on, telling her that life support was critical now.  
  
Beka bit her lip. They had to get out of here. If they didn't retreat they'd all be blown to pieces in minutes.  
  
Grimacing with pain over the gash in her head, she glanced over her shoulder.  
  
"Colonel!" she screamed.  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"Contact everyone! Tell them to retreat!"  
  
The Colonel struggled to see her through the smoke. She grabbed onto a railing as the ship was shaken again from a missile.  
  
"Where to, Captain?" she screamed over the blaring of the siren.  
  
"Anywhere! Just tell them all to run!" Came the screamed, near panicky reply.  
  
Beka turned back to her windsheild and yanked her tired, old ship over to the side.  
  
Quickly punching around on her navigation screen, she spied the nearest portal.  
  
Biting her lip, she shoved the control forward and desperately raced towards it. All around her, the others were doing the same thing.  
  
Turning around from where they had been hovering and firing, or picking up speed as they dodged among other fighters, they all raced at insane speeds towards the nearest portals.  
  
As Beka struggled to keep her hands on the shaking control, she hurled past the floating remains of a few battered fighters, who had turned on their distress beacons, praying that someone would see them.  
  
Several fighters spun away from the portal and quickly went back, dodging Dragan fire and debris and quickly latched their navigation systems to those of the bedraggled ships and then turned around and went hurling towards the portal again.  
  
All around her, there was a wild panic as hundreds of fighters zoomed around, dodging around each other and desperately trying to reach the portal.  
  
Completely abandoning all thoughts of firing, they all pushed their little ships to the limit, hurling towards safety.  
  
Beka swore as her ship started shaking. The siren was blaring louder now, telling her that the ship was about to come apart.  
  
"Come on!" she muttered through clenched teeth, shoving the control as far as it could go and keeping her eyes glued on the portal in front of which some panicked fighters still hovered, while most had already been torn away by the stream to safety.  
  
Beka kept her eyes glued to the portal, biting her lip so hard she thought it might bleed and struggling to hold her shaking ship together.  
  
Just a few more meters, just a few more meters…  
  
Suddenly, she spied a Dragan fighter zipping through the mass of panicked fighters, firing all around.  
  
Beka's eyes widened as she saw the fighter heading straight for her ship. Oh, my God, she thought. If her ship got another hit it would come apart.  
  
Swearing again, she tried forcing her ship to pick up speed, but the siren only blared louder and her weary ship refused to go any faster.  
  
"Shit!" she cried, terror filling her.  
  
She saw the Dragan fighter approaching her and saw a little red light blinking on its hull. It was charging.  
  
In a panic, Beka started wildly tearing the control around, swearing and screaming at her ship to move.  
  
Finally, she glanced over her shoulder, sick fear in her eyes.  
  
"Colonel!" she screamed. "The son of a bitch is going to hit us!"  
  
The Colonel was staring at her screen, a shocked expression on her face. She acted as though she hadn't heard her.  
  
Beka squinted through the smoke and was about to scream over the blaring of the siren again, when she saw the Dragan fighter firing out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Wide eyed, she yanked her head around and stared in shock as the missiles hissed through space towards her.  
  
Grabbing the control again, she yanked it any way it would move, feeling her bones nearly cracking from her tight grip on it.  
  
Shit, she thought as wild panic ran through her. They were going to die. They were going to die.  
  
Suddenly, she heard the Colonel screaming at her to look.  
  
Beka yanked her head up and stared out of her windshield. A small fighter was hurling madly through space towards the fighter. Wildly dodging around other fighters which were still trying to reach the portal, the ship raced towards the missiles which were heading towards the Maru.  
  
Beka stared. She recognized that little fighter. It was the General.  
  
"No!" she screamed when she realized what he was trying to do. Staring wide eyed out the window, she started madly shaking her head, watching as the fighter got closer and closer to the missiles which were racing towards her ship.  
  
"No! Stop it! Go back! Don't!" she screamed hysterically.  
  
But it was too late. With a sickening thud, the missiles hit the fighter. The missiles had been so close to the Maru that the debris which flew through space as soon as the fighter exploded hit her windshield and rocked her weary ship.  
  
Beka threw up her hands to shield her eyes from the bright glare, but her special eye immediately dimmed the light for her so she couldn't tear her eyes off it.  
  
Black pieces of metal flew around her, slamming into her windshield and the sides of her ship. Sparking wires floated past her and chunks of debris difted around them.  
  
Beka stared. The force of the explosion had blown up the fighter which had fired on her.  
  
Completely numb with shock, Beka stared out into space. There was nothing left of the General's little fighter.  
  
Nothing save pieces of burnt debris which floated among the forms of the panicky fighters still trying to get to the portal.  
  
Beka heard someone screaming at her, but she couldn't hear them. She didn't want to hear them.  
  
She couldn't tear her eyes off the spot in space where the General had been only moments ago and now there was nothing but darkness.  
  
She felt someone reaching past her and trying to rip her numb fingers from the control, but when she couldn't force her fingers to let go, the person grabbed the control over her hand and shoved it forward.  
  
She wasn't aware of the Colonel screaming at her, trying to rip her out of her daze. She wasn't aware of the Colonel reaching past her and forcing her ship into slipstream and then hanging over Beka as she desperately yanked the ship around the silver chains of the stream until she found an exit.  
  
Beka didn't even notice when the stream threw them out and they were quietly drifting through space again.  
  
She was still staring out of her windshield at nothing.  
  
Because that was all there was left. Nothing. 


	13. Chapter 13

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews guys, you're the best. Anyway, I'm nearly done. Two more chapters after these three and then that's it. I'll write the last two as soon as I can and I promise you won't have to wait for long to get them. Hope you enjoy the rest of this story.  
  
  
  
Beka slowly dragged herself down the corridors of her ship. Her ship. She stared blankly at the walls and pipes she passed. Her ship.  
  
It didn't mean anything to her anymore. She didn't care anymore.  
  
Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
Her legs started shaking and she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. When she couldn't stand anymore, she let herself slide down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall infront of her.  
  
He had died to save her. He had sacrificed his life to save her. And for what? Beka didn't know. She leaned her head against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest.  
  
He had died to save her. And for what?  
  
Why the hell were they fighting this war? Why? Beka didn't know anymore.  
  
She heard a beep echoeing through the ship. It was a hail. She knew who it was. The only person who ever hailed her after an attack. The only person she didn't want to speak to.  
  
She reached over and wearily turned on the viewscreen which sat beside her.  
  
As soon as the Admiral's cool stare filled the screen, she let herself fall back against the wall again. She stared at the wall infront of her, not looking at the screen.  
  
"So, Captain Valentine, I heard about that little misfortune of yours. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not." There wasn't a hint of compassion in his voice.  
  
Beka didn't answer him. She was still lost in her own thoughts. Why were they fighting this war? Why the hell were they still here?  
  
The Admiral paused and stared at her. He had heard about the General dying. He had also heard about how the Commander was starting to resent the war and how everyone wanted to surrender, with the exception of the weary, broken woman sitting in the corridor on his screen.  
  
He tilted his head and looked at her.  
  
"Captain, answer me one thing." He said, mild curiousity in his voice. "Why are you still doing this?"  
  
Beka didn't answer. She stared in front of her, thinking.  
  
"I mean, it can't possibly be to preserve Captain Hunt's Commonwealth. If you truly cared about that then you would have stopped this war months, hell, even years ago. I'm truly curious now. Why are you still doing this?"  
  
Suddenly, a memory crept into Beka's numb mind. Something that Tyr had said to her only a few months ago.  
  
"Are you going to spend the rest of your life chasing after ghosts and risking your life to keep promises just because you couldn't save him?"  
  
Him. Harper. She swallowed and slowly closed her eyes.  
  
For the first time in years, she allowed the truth to sink in.  
  
She wasn't fighting this war to beat the Dragans. She wasn't fighting it to keep Dylan's shattered dream together. She wasn't fighting it to win.  
  
She was fighting it for herself.  
  
Because she wasn't strong enough to fight against herself. To fight against the truth.  
  
She closed her eyes. Finding the words, she quietly answered the Admiral.  
  
"I'm doing this, because I always thought that I could mend one broken promise by keeping another." She whispered. "But I can't."  
  
The Admiral stared at her, a broken, defeated woman sitting on her ship, all alone with only her defeat to keep her company.  
  
Slowly, he reached over and turned off his viewscreen.  
  
Beka didn't move. Not even when she heard the Admiral cut off their connection and heard the crackle of static replace his image on her screen.  
  
She stayed on the floor, her head leaning against the wall.  
  
She had failed. She had tried so hard. So damn hard to make it up to him. To make up for that one broken promise.  
  
And she had failed.  
  
Instead of mending that promise, she had destroyed and broken everyone she cared about. Everyone.  
  
She heard footsteps coming along the corridor towards her. Heard them pause when they reached her and heard someone kneeling down to face her.  
  
"Captain?" The Colonel asked in a soft voice.  
  
Beka didn't answer her for a moment. Then, she slowly opened her eyes. As soon as the Colonel saw the defeat, saw the pain in her eyes, she knew that Beka had finally given up.  
  
Beka turned and stared at the Colonel.  
  
"Colonel, I'm sorry." She whispered. "For everything."  
  
The Colonel stared at her, before quietly nodding. "I know you are. That's why I'm still here."  
  
* * * * * (a week later) * * * * *  
  
"Sorry I'm late. Slipstream drive problems. Damn thing's malfunctioning again." The Commander muttered as he swept into the Maru's kitchen.  
  
The Colonel gave him a weak smile as she set her empty cup onto the counter.  
  
Beka was sitting at the table, staring into nothing.  
  
"Coffee, Commander?" The Colonel asked, glancing over her shoulder.  
  
The Commander gave her a relieved smile. "Thank you, Colonel. Would be great."  
  
She handed him a cup. He eagerly grasped it and took a sip.  
  
Beka glanced up at him. "Commander?" she said, so quietly that she thought he hadn't heard her.  
  
But he did. Turning around, he looked down at her.  
  
"Yes, Captain?" He took another sip of the coffee.  
  
She stared at him, her eyes completely blank.  
  
He blinked. "Are you alright, Captain?" he asked, concern in his voice.  
  
She didn't smile. Only continued to stare at him.  
  
"We're surrendering, Commander." She whispered.  
  
It took a moment for her words to sink in. The Commander stared at her for a moment, smiling at her as if she had gone insane, before it hit him.  
  
The blood drained from his face and his eyes widened. Gaping at her, he lost his grip on his cup.  
  
It fell to the floor, shattering into small shards of glass, the black coffee spilling over the metal grating floor.  
  
* * * * * (two weeks later) * * * * *  
  
The Commander wearily walked down the Maru's corridors. "Captain? Colonel?"  
  
"In the kitchen, Commander." He heard the Colonel's faint voice drifting down towards him.  
  
As he walked, he still couldn't make up his mind about how he felt.  
  
The moment when Beka had told him they were surrendering, the first emotion which had crossed his mind was relief. Relief that the constant fighting, fear, panic and deaths were over.  
  
But then he had stopped to stare at Beka.  
  
Seeing her pale, worn face, he realized that she had truly surrendered. Not only to the Admiral, but to herself.  
  
She had failed.  
  
The Commander couldn't help but feel bitterly sorry for her. Over the past three years, he had constantly hoped that she would wake up from her dream and that she would realize she could never win. That a broken promise would always remain broken.  
  
But no. It had taken three years, hundreds of destroyed ships, hundreds of dead people, hundreds of starving refugees in camps on their planets, and the death of the General to make her realize she had lost.  
  
He bit his lip. It wasn't a kind way to wake up from a dream.  
  
As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he remembered the Colonel's words. About sleepwalkers. Well, it was true. Beka Valentine had been shaken awake, but she had only succeeded in falling and breaking her neck.  
  
He tried giving the two stern, weary women in the kitchen enthusiastic smiles. They barely noticed it. One of them was living in her own world of pain and misery, and the other one was desperately trying to pull her out of it.  
  
Clearing his throat, he tossed a flexi onto the table. "A report from Sinti. The High Council sends their regrets and says that the General had died in a noble way. Say they don't blame anyone."  
  
The Colonel was the only one who showed any response to it. She gave him a weak smile.  
  
"Well, he really couldn't have died a more noble death. I mean, he was paranoid and terrified and scared of his own shadow for the past three years. But when his loyalty came into question in the end, he showed more courage than any of us could have."  
  
Beka nodded absentmindly. "He was a great man." She whispered.  
  
The Commander nodded, tracing a scratch on the table.  
  
They stood there in silence, none of them looking at each other.  
  
Suddenly, they heard a dull thump and the sound of a door opening. All of their heads snapped up.  
  
"Airlock." Beka breathed.  
  
The Colonel whirled around and stared at the Commander. "You didn't bring anybody with you, did you?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes widening. "Of course not. But if those aren't my guests then who the hell—"  
  
Beka silenced him with a wave of her hand. She pushed herself off the table and grabbed her gun out of her holster.  
  
The Colonel pulled out her gun too and switched off the safety.  
  
Together, the two women crept out of the kitchen and down the hall. Quickly pulling out his own gun, the Commander quietly followed them.  
  
They crept down the corridor, keeping either low to the ground or shuffling along the walls.  
  
When they came to a corner, they all froze.  
  
Beka peeked around the corner. She saw some figures standing at the end of the corridor. They were standing quite far away, but her eye quickly zoomed in and she saw who they were.  
  
"Dragans." She whispered.  
  
"What the hell are they doing here?" The Commander whispered, a note of fear in his voice. The Colonel silenced him with a wave of her gun in his direction. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that they are on this ship and we need to get them off."  
  
Motioning to Beka, both of them crept down the corridor towards the prowling figures at the other end.  
  
Biting his lip to keep his fear in, the Commander swallowed hard and clutched his gun and quickly ran after the other two.  
  
They didn't reach the end of the corridor.  
  
One of the Nietzscheans saw them coming and with a shout, pointed at them. Immediately, the others whipped out their guns and started firing on the three advancing figures.  
  
Beka leapt sideways into a doorway, the Colonel beside her. She leaned out and yanked the Commander in with her.  
  
Beka leaned over and glanced down the hallway from where shots were still being heard. Pointing her gun, she started wildly shooting at them, not caring if she was hitting them or not.  
  
Suddenly, she realized that shots were being fired at her from both ends of the corridor.  
  
She gritted her teeth. "Shit. They've got us surrounded."  
  
The Colonel cooly nodded. The two of them lunged out from the doorway and started firing, one facing the front and the other facing the back.  
  
The Commander cowered in the doorway, staring at the shots wizzing past him and the shouts of the Dragans and the heavy thuds as their dead bodies hit the floor.  
  
Suddenly, he saw Beka jerk and heard a hiss of pain coming from her lips.  
  
He yanked his head up and stared at her. She had been shot.  
  
Beka nearly dropped her gun when she felt the shots hit her. She hissed in pain and quickly glanced down at her left arm. Blood was already pouring out of it.  
  
"Shit." She swore. Forcing herself to keep a tight grip on her gun, she kept on firing, ignoring the dull throb of pain in her arm.  
  
But after a few minutes, the pain started engulfing her entire arm and ate its way up towards her neck like fire.  
  
Beka clenched her jaw as tears of pain brimmed her eyelids. She forced herself to concentrate and keep shooting. If she stopped now, they'd kill her.  
  
But as she kept firing, the pain in her arm got too much for her. Feeling as though hundreds of dull knives were stabbing and twisting in her arm, Beka let out a small cry of pain.  
  
Her other arm was shaking now and she could hardly hold her gun up.  
  
She felt her knees shaking and knew she would collapse soon. The pain was starting to take over her mind now. Everything around her started looking blurry. Even her special eye was doing weird things. It kept zooming in and out and she felt as if she was being violently thrown back and forth.  
  
She gritted her teeth as darkness started engulfing her mind.  
  
No! She screamed inwardly. She couldn't black out now. No!  
  
She desperately fought against it, the pain and the darkness.  
  
Slowly, she felt her knees collapsing. She felt the gun slip from her numb fingers and fall onto the metal floor.  
  
As she tried to see through the blackness and pain which shrouded her mind, she saw someone lunging at her from the corner of her eye.  
  
She felt them crash into her and felt herself falling onto the hard metal beneath her feet.  
  
The last thing she remembered before she was unconscious was hearing another shot wizzing towards her.  
  
She heard it hit someone.  
  
But it wasn't her.  
  
* * * * * (three weeks later) * * * * *  
  
"Captain? Can you hear me?"  
  
Beka immediately recognized the Colonel's voice. Even though her mind felt thick and sluggish and she had a hard time opening her eyes, she immediately felt safer knowing that the Colonel was there.  
  
Groggily, she tried opening her eye. Everything was blurry. She blinked once, and her vision slightly cleared.  
  
Her other eye was covered in a patch again and she found herself nearly panicking when she could only see out of one eye again, but then the Colonel's soothing voice interupted her fear.  
  
"Captain, I put an eye patch on the implant for you. I felt it might make you more comfortable."  
  
Beka blinked again. Slowly, she could make out the shape of the Colonel who was sitting next to her on a chair. The Colonel leaned forward.  
  
After regaining her sight, Beka decided to try sitting up. "I want…" Beka licked her dry lips. Her voice sounded raw and raspy and her throat hurt. She tried again. "I want…" She gave up when her voice refused to continue.  
  
"To sit up, Captain? Alright. But only nice and slowly." The Colonel reached forward and helped pull Beka up into a sitting position.  
  
Beka collapsed against the headboard. She stared around the room, not used to the semi-darkness which was still around her. Reaching up, she pulled off the patch. Immediately, everything in the room came into focus. She looked around herself.  
  
Nothing had changed. The Colonel was sitting in a chair, a flexi beside her on the dresser. A cup of coffee sat beside the flexi. Beka glanced at it. A dull green light glowed around it. Her coffee was cold.  
  
Groggily, Beka reached up with her right hand to rub the sore muscles in her neck. She grimaced. She must have been unconscious for quite a while. She was about to ask the Colonel how long she had been out of it for, when the strangest feeling engulfed her.  
  
She couldn't feel her left arm.  
  
Her eyes widening, panic spread through her. Slowly, she forced herself to look down at her arm.  
  
All the blood drained from her face when she saw it. She found she couldn't breathe anymore.  
  
Where her arm used to be now lay a long, metal arm. Even the fingers were metal, the dull grey metal in layers. She stared upwards. The metal extended all the way up to her shoulder.  
  
She screamed and tried to push herself away from it.  
  
"Captain! Please! Get a hold of yourself! Please!" The Colonel cried, lunging forward and holding Beka down against the bed as Beka tried to leap out of bed and run away from that thing which was attached to her.  
  
"What the hell is that?" she screamed, her terrified eyes staring at the Colonel.  
  
The Colonel didn't release her grip on Beka's arm. "It's a prothestic. Captain I didn't mean to tell you like this, I thought you wouldn't notice until you were completely awake. We had to amputate your arm after the attack. You got hit once in the shoulder and again in the elbow. By the time the Dragans had left and I could get the doctor over here, it was so badly infected that we couldn't do anything for it anymore."  
  
Beka stared at her, still gasping for breath. The panic was slowly leaving her. The fear was receeding. She looked at the Colonel, wide eyed.  
  
"You mean that this thing is another arm?"  
  
The Colonel nodded. "It's exactly like your original one was, Captain, with the only exception in it being that you have no pain detectors there or nerves. But you can still move it around and do everything you want with it."  
  
Shaking, Beka slowly looked down at her metal arm. The dull metal shimmered from the light in the room. Beka's eye zoomed in closer and she saw the tiny dents in it, some scratches here and there.  
  
This was her arm.  
  
She remembered how she had felt when she had looked at herself in the mirror for the first time after getting her implant. How ugly she had felt.  
  
Now, she was even worse.  
  
Tears brimmed her eye as she stared down at her arm. Now there was really nobody, nobody who would ever call her beautiful.  
  
Quietly, she started sobbing. "Oh, my God." She whispered, tears of self pity coursing down her cheeks. "Oh, my God."  
  
The Colonel leaned forward and gently pulled the shaking, sobbing woman into her arms. She stroked her hair, making sure not to touch the implant on her face.  
  
"It's alright, Captain. It's alright." She whispered, gently rocking her back and forth.  
  
Beka hardly heard her. She kept on sobbing, crying because she had now lost everything. She now really had nothing left.  
  
When Beka had cried out all of her bitter tears, muttered and screamed every vile word she could think of about Dragans and Nietzscheans in general, she finally let go of the Colonel.  
  
The Colonel leaned back in her chair, completely ignoring the fact that her shirt was soaking from Beka's tears.  
  
Sniffing, Beka reached up with her good arm and wiped her tears off her good cheek.  
  
She let out a strangled laugh. "Well, at least now I only have one eye to cry with and one cheek to wipe the tears off of."  
  
The Colonel gave her a strained smile.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Beka leaned back against the headboard again and let her special eye roam around the room. She spied a mothball in the far corner and saw a tiny leak in a pipe in the ceiling.  
  
She looked back at the Colonel. The woman was still staring at Beka, an unreadable expression on her face.  
  
Beka frowned. "What?"  
  
The Colonel's gaze slid down from Beka's face and she stared at the bedcovers. She cleared her throat.  
  
"There's something else, Captain. Something I didn't want to tell you yet, but the doctor felt it was necessary."  
  
Beka stared at her. "Well, just spit it out. Whatever it is, it can't make me feel any worse than I do now."  
  
Taking a deep breath, the Colonel looked back up and her black eyes stared into Beka's blue one.  
  
"It's the Commander, Captain. He's dead."  
  
Beka's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't breath for a moment. She stared at the Colonel, her eye widening in shock.  
  
Quickly, the Colonel continued, wanting to blurt everything out before the news completely threw Beka into shock.  
  
"After you collapsed, he threw himself onto you to save you from the Dragans who were still firing at you. After he landed on you, they continued to fire, apparently not caring who they were shooting at." She let her gaze fall to the floor. "They shot him seven times. He was dead before I even managed to drive them off the ship. There was nothing we could do for him." She looked back at Beka again. "He sacrificed his life for you." She added quietly.  
  
* * * * * (a month later) * * * * *  
  
Beka scowled as she glared at the message flickering across her viewscreen. A Dragan was standing on the screen, patiently asking people's assistance in tracking down any allied leader who might still be out there. A reward of 500,000 Dragonis was available for any who caught either 'Captain Rebecca Valentine' or 'Colonel Estebella Yau'.  
  
Beka smiled bitterly and smugly when she heard him say they had no idea where they currently were and on what ship they were. Well, they would certainly never think to look on the Maru.  
  
But as the announcement went on, a cold shudder of fear went down Beka's back. He was saying how both of the leaders would be 'interogated' and later executed for 'war crimes' when they were caught.  
  
Beka shuddered and bit her lip. If they ever caught her…  
  
No. She wouldn't think about that. No. Instead, she'd focus on making sure they never caught her.  
  
Reaching up with her metallic arm, she turned off the message. Pushing herself out of her piloting chair with both of her arms, she started walking down the corridor.  
  
"Colonel? Could you grab a pair of scissors and the peroxide from the med kit and come to the bathroom? We've got some stuff to take care of."  
  
The Colonel glanced back and forth between the scissors in her hands and Beka's beautiful blond hair.  
  
"Are you sure about this, Captain?"  
  
Beka rolled her eye at her. "Colonel, what would you rather have—horrible hair or being caught by the Admiral?"  
  
The Colonel gave her one more doubtful look and then leaned over and started cutting away chunks of Beka's hair. Beka refused to look in the mirror as she felt the Colonel snipping away long strands of her hair.  
  
After going all around Beka's head, the Colonel bit her lip and glanced down at her.  
  
"Captain, I'm afraid I'm not much of a haircutter.."  
  
Beka waved a dismissive hand at her. "I already look horrendous anyway. A bad haircut won't do me any more damage."  
  
When the Colonel finally sat back and declared that she had butchered Beka's hair into as much of a mess as she could fashionably try, Beka nodded and added the finishing touches to her new look.  
  
Quickly shaking her shaggy hair, its beautiful blond color disappeared and was replaced by a reddish orange. She glanced at the Colonel.  
  
"So, what do you think?"  
  
The Colonel gave a strangled laugh. "Captain, your own parents wouldn't recognize you, never mind the Admiral."  
  
Grabbing the edge of the countertop, Beka pulled herself up and stared at herself in the mirror.  
  
Staring back at her was a face she didn't recognize. A face which couldn't possibly belong to her.  
  
Half of her face was covered with that metal implant, and rough scars criss crossed the edges of her skin where the metal was welded. That black plastic bump in the middle of it was her eye.  
  
She slowly looked upwards. Where her wavy, blond hair used to be there was now choppy, uneven spikes of reddish orange hair.  
  
Looking downwards, she stared at her shoulder where her metallic arm started.  
  
Beka looked back at herself. A hard, bitter smile looked back at her formed by a mouth which no longer knew how to laugh.  
  
And beside the implant, the only ghost which existed in her current face of her old one, was her one blue eye.  
  
She stared at it.  
  
There was no laughter in it. No sparkle. Only a bitterness and a sense of defeat.  
  
She shook her head and forced herself to pay attention to what she was doing. She slowly took the scissors from the Colonel.  
  
"Alright. I'll warn you, I'm not much with scissors either."  
  
She gently grabbed some of the Colonel's thick brown hair and cut off a chunk of it. She moved over and cut off another chunk, letting it fall to the floor to mix with the strands of her old blond hair which lay scattered over the bathroom floor.  
  
The Colonel chuckled nervously as Beka cut off her bangs.  
  
"Captain, there's only the problem with color. I don't have nanobots in my hair."  
  
Beka smiled at her grimly and nodded her chin at the perioxide sitting on the counter. The Colonel's eyes followed her nod and her eyes widened.  
  
"You're going to bleach my hair, Captain?"  
  
Beka chuckled bitterly. "You're gonna love being blond. Trust me. And if you don't, you can thank a certain Admiral for it."  
  
Without another word, Beka went back to cutting off chunks of the Colonel's hair and letting it drift onto the floor.  
  
Two weeks later, Beka, the Maru and the Colonel went into hiding. Although they had changed their appearances to the point where not even their own parents would have recognized either of them, and the Maru wasn't a very distinguishable bucket of bolts, as the Colonel put it, they still feared being spotted by roaming Dragan patrols.  
  
Beka had wanted to stay in space, flying around among abandoned asteriod fields and streaming through deserted systems, but the Colonel had shaken her head and said it was still too risky. Finally, they had agreed that finding some planet to hide themselves on would be the safest way to avoid being seen or captured.  
  
After roaming around and searching for the grittiest, dirtiest, most inconspicious planet they could find, they settled on Mikradonia.  
  
They landed in a largely abandoned docking station, where nobody ever came to or left from, and the few rusty wrecks lying around them in rotting berths weren't going to be moving anywhere anytime soon.  
  
The only people who lived on this wasted, filthy mess of a planet were either drunks or junkies who spent much of their time sleeping or partying in the abandoned ships lying around, or digging through gutters to look for their next high. There were a few dealers too, who made their living by selling off old and broken appliances and piecing together illegal devices from the piles of junk which littered the streets and the docking station.  
  
But mostly, the planet was inhabited by criminals, who, like Beka and the Colonel, had come looking for a planet where they would never be found, and where nobody asked any questions. On Mikradonia, they found that planet.  
  
This was where Beka and the Colonel stayed. Having wedged the Maru into one of the many broken berths in the station, they lived off of dealing off spare parts with the dealers for food and other necessities, and keeping out of everyones way. Nobody ever asked them questions, and they never gave anyone the need to.  
  
It was the perfect place for the two most wanted war criminals in the known worlds to hide out.  
  
* * * * * (a month later) * * * * *  
  
Beka quietly crept along the corridors of her ship. It was in the middle of the night and she couldn't sleep. She had quietly crept out of her bed and had gone wandering down the corridors, her barefeet padding along the floor and a bathrobe clutched around her.  
  
As she walked through the darkness, she didn't need to turn on any lights. Not only did she know every inch of her ship like the back of her hand, but her special eye still made everything around her grow in a faint green light. It made a wonderful flashlight.  
  
Beka padded down the corridor, stepping over doorframes and wires.  
  
Finally, after rounding another corner, she was there.  
  
Scanning around with her eye, she quickly found the doorway in the darkness and crept towards it. Walking through it, she tiptoed along the cold metal floor towards his bed. She easily crossed the floor and found the ladder and pulled herself up it. This part she could have done with an eye patch on.  
  
Even with both her eyes closed she would have been able to find Harper's bed.  
  
She climbed up the ladder and pulled herself onto his bed. Crawling across the blankets which she had straightened more than two years ago, she slowly lay down, resting her head on the pillow, feeling its softness under her cheek.  
  
She curled up into a little ball and breathed in his smell. It was amazing. After so long, his smell still surrounded his bed. That smell of sweat, sparky cola and grease.  
  
Harper's smell.  
  
She reached up beside the pillow and felt the empty sparky cola can there. Laying it to the side, she picked up his shirt and brought it to her nose. She breathed in deeply.  
  
If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine he was sitting right next to her.  
  
She stared off into the darkness, remembering him. That wild, spiky blond hair, those sparkling blue eyes. That understanding smile. Those dimples in his cheeks. The shirt which always hung out of his pants. The crooked toolbelt which always hung on his hips, no matter where he was.  
  
Oh, Harper.  
  
That familiar pain squeezed her heart. God, she still missed him. She still wanted him back. Now more than ever.  
  
God, she had messed up so badly. So damn badly.  
  
Tears brimmed her eyes and slowly rolled down her cheek. She'd messed everything up.  
  
Everything.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut as she admitted to herself how badly she had screwed up. How damn badly.  
  
Living in a dream which was already shattered, she'd spent years trying desperately to make up for not keeping her promise to Harper. She'd tried everything to make it up to him, including keeping Dylan's promise of keeping on fighting.  
  
Everyday, she'd lived and breathed for keeping that promise, that small hope in her heart that it would somehow mend that broken promise and the guilt which ate away at her.  
  
But it hadn't. No. Nothing would ever do that.  
  
Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks and she sobbed quietly.  
  
She'd been so blind. And so stupid.  
  
She'd never once taken the time to look around herself and see what she was doing to the people around her. People who cared about her. People who cared about her so much that they refused to leave her, even when she was carelessly putting their lives on the line. They had cared so much that they had refused to force her to open her eyes and realize what a mess she was making.  
  
She'd hurt so many people. So many people.  
  
First there were the countless troops who she had recklessly thrown into one battle after another and hadn't even blinked an eye at when she found out they had died. Then Charlemagne had died. Because of her. And her blindness. And then the General. And the Commander. They were all dead because of her.  
  
They had all refused to betray her and had ridden along in the wake of her shattered dream.  
  
She suddenly remembered Trance. Trance had left her because of that too. Because Beka had forgotten to think about her. To care. She had been to absorbed in mending her own pain and ridding herself of her own guilt.  
  
She had been too busy to look around and notice what she was doing. More tears ran down her cheeks. The Than General had been right. She was selfish and self-centered.  
  
God.  
  
She turned her head and sobbed into Harper's pillow.  
  
"Harper, I messed everything up. I hurt so many people." She sobbed. "Because I'm stupid and selfish and blind." With each word, she punched the pillow under her head.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
She turned her head and stared into the darkness of the room. She suddenly remembered something from long ago.  
  
A promise that she had made to Harper.  
  
Years ago.  
  
A promise which she hadn't been aware she was actually making.  
  
She frowned as she tried to remember. Then, suddenly, his words came rushing back to her.  
  
"Beka, you have to promise me that you'll take care of yourself. No matter what happens, you'll always take care of yourself."  
  
She started laughing as she remembered that. Her laughter quickly dissolved into bitter tears as she started sobbing again.  
  
"Harper, I tried. I tried so hard to take care of myself, but I was too busy trying to mend that promise I made to you. And I forgot." She sniffed and buried her face in the pillow again. She started crying again, as the full meaning of his words hit her.  
  
God, she hadn't taken care of herself. She hadn't even tried. She had been too busy chasing ghosts and running after shattered dreams.  
  
Now, this was the price she had to pay.  
  
A metal implant covering half of her face. A little camera where her eye used to be. A long, metallic arm where her real arm used to be. Scars running along her forehead where her skin used to be smooth. Choppy reddish- orange spiky hair which had been literally hacked into shape.  
  
She really hadn't taken care of herself.  
  
As she stared off into the darkness of the room, she suddenly realized with a sickening lurch that this was the second promise she had broken to him.  
  
"No." she whispered in despair, bitter sobs clutching her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the shirt closer to her.  
  
"Harper, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She cried, burying her face in the pillow again.  
  
Her words echoed around the still room. There was not another soul in the room, except for the broken, wasted woman lying curled up one one of the beds, clutching a faded shirt to herself and crying bitterly into a pillow.  
  
The only sounds in the room where the muffled sobs coming from the woman as she muttered over and over again: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 


	14. Chapter 14

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 14  
  
Beka felt someone gently shaking her. She groaned and slowly opened her eye. She had rolled over during the night and had fallen asleep with her implant being covered by the pillow. It was the only way she could fall asleep without her eye constantly zooming around and making everything glow in a green light.  
  
It was almost a second nature to her now to roll over during the night when she was half asleep and cover her eye.  
  
She yawned and blinked at the person who had shaken her.  
  
A blond haired person was frowning down at her with concern. Beka found herself momentarily confused. Why was there a blond person looking at her?  
  
Then she remembered. The Colonel now had blond hair. Beka stared at her, slowly stretching. The Colonel was standing on the lower bunk, holding onto the edges of Harper's bed and was looking down at her with concern.  
  
Beka yawned again. The blond hair suited her.  
  
"Captain? Are you alright?"  
  
Beka took a deep breath. She didn't feel alright. She felt horrible.  
  
Wordlessly, she shook her head. She looked up at the Colonel, confusion in her eyes. It was time she started fixing the mess she'd made. It was time she started making up for all the wrongs she'd done.  
  
But how?  
  
She kept on staring at the Colonel as she tried thinking of ways she could go about fixing things. She drew a blank. She couldn't think of anything. Not a single thing.  
  
Who could she go to and ask for help? Who was still out there who wouldn't shun her, who wouldn't hate her? Who would help her?  
  
As she mulled that over, a face suddenly appeared in her mind.  
  
Rev.  
  
She hadn't thought about him years. Rev would help her. He always did. No matter what she did, he would always help her.  
  
A small glimmer of hope flickered on in Beka's heart. Rev would help her. He'd help her make up for everything. He'd help her make it all okay.  
  
She blinked up at the Colonel, who was still looking at her, gentle concern in her eyes.  
  
"Colonel?" she asked softly.  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
"Could you find someone for me?" Beka looked up at her, her eyes pleading.  
  
Without any hesitation, the Colonel nodded. "Of course I will. Just tell me who."  
  
Beka licked her dry lips, her eyes roaming around the room. "Do you remember Rev? Rev Bem?"  
  
The Colonel's eyes briefly glanced down as she tried to remember. Rev Bem…Suddenly, her head snapped up.  
  
"You mean the Magog Reverend?"  
  
Beka nodded.  
  
"Of course I remember him, Captain. Do you need me to find him for you?" she asked, her voice gentle and patient as if she was talking to a child.  
  
Beka nodded again.  
  
"Alright, I'll try. But do you know where I'd start looking?"  
  
Another nod. "Try—Try Kingfisher. He was born there and he's always wanted to go back and make a hospital there. Try talking to any hospitals there, or if you can't find him, try the monastery."  
  
The Colonel nodded again. "I'll do my best Captain, but first, you have to get up and get changed. You'll catch a cold lying here like this with only your nightgown and a bathrobe on."  
  
Beka mutely nodded and let the Colonel sit her up. With numb hands, Beka crawled across the bed and climbed down the ladder, with the Colonel's hands on her back lest she lose her grip and fall.  
  
Beka's mind felt empty. Completely empty. All she was aware of was that weak, flickering flame of hope within her. The hope that she'd be able to fix things.  
  
Stumbling slightly, Beka felt the Colonel's hands on her arm and felt her gently guiding her towards the door.  
  
As Beka slowly shuffled across the floor, her bare feet padding along the metal grating, a small thought suddenly nagged at her from the back of her mind.  
  
She stopped walking. "Wait." She said quietly, looking at the Colonel who had come to a halt beside her, her hand still on her arm.  
  
"What is it, Captain?" she asked in that gentle voice.  
  
Beka weakly pointed at the bed she had been lying on. "I have to—" She swallowed hard, still pointing. "I have to make his bed first." She whispered.  
  
The Colonel stared at her, before quietly nodding, and leading her back to the bed.  
  
Without a word, the Colonel helped Beka stand on the rusted ladder and helped her pull the blanket straight, fluff up the pillow, and carefully fold an old shirt which Beka then carefully placed beside the pillow. On top of the shirt, Beka gently placed an empty sparky cola can.  
  
Tightly gripping the ladder, Beka gave the Colonel a nod. "We can go now." She said, her voice slightly stronger.  
  
The Colonel took a hold of her arm again and helped her climb down. Slowly, they shuffled across the floor again towards the door, leaving behind them the neat bed of a person who had died nearly four years ago.  
  
Beka slowly lowered herself into the piloting chair. She nervously glanced up at the screen. The image of a chair in a well furnished room stared down at her. It was empty.  
  
The Colonel had called to her minutes ago that she had finally been able to find Rev and that he would be on screen in a moment.  
  
Beka had given her a weak smile, her gratefulness shining in her eye. The Colonel saw it, and had held up a hand before Beka could thank her and had raised an eyebrow and suggested getting over to the screen quickly before Rev changed his mind.  
  
As Beka sat there, a tumult of emotions was running around in her mind. That guilt was still gnawing away at her. The guilt of what she had done, of the messes she had made, of the people she had killed. Then there was her fear. The fear that Rev would hate her too, and that he would leave her like everyone else did.  
  
But deep down, that tiny flame of hope flickered within her. That hope that Rev would understand and help her set things straight.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at the screen above her. As she waited, her nervousness started taking its toll on her and she started involuntarily drumming her metallic fingers on her armrest.  
  
Suddenly, a figure emerged on the screen. Beka froze.  
  
He slowly sat down on the leather chair, lightly resting his hands on his lap. He looked exactly the same. Wearing that same orange robe around himself, with his medallion hanging around his neck.  
  
His claws rested gently in his lap. His face looked the same too. So kind and understanding. And the eyes which were staring at her were filled with such patience and compassion that Beka could have sworn he had never left and that nothing had changed.  
  
"Rev." she breathed, still hardly daring to believe he was really there.  
  
He gave her a nod. "Rebecca. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. I have spent much of these past few years trying to learn of your whereabouts, but I heard that you had been rather busy."  
  
Beka didn't smile, but slightly dropped her gaze.  
  
Rev cocked his head to the side and looked down at her. At first, he hadn't recognized her. That spiky, reddish orange hair, that metal implant in her face, and the bitterness and defeat which paled her face were strange to him. It was only when he had seen her eye and the way she had looked at him when she had first seen him that he recognized her.  
  
He slowly folded his hands in his lap. "Beka, you obviously came to find me in these tumulous times because you needed to speak with me. Now you found me, and now you can talk. Tell me anything which clouds your heart. I will listen. I always have."  
  
Beka's gaze moved back up to his and she stared at him, despair and grief clouding her eye.  
  
She bit her lip. For a second she didn't want to tell him. For a second she wanted to run away, that fear still in her heart.  
  
"Rev, I did a lot of bad things. A lot of bad things. And I can't ever make them right again. And if I tell you, I'm afraid that you'll hate me too, like the others do." She said quietly.  
  
"Beka! I could never hate you. No matter what you might have done. Everything is done for a reason, and as long as that reason is good, the results can be justified, no matter how bad they might be."  
  
Beka slowly shook her head, a bitter smile on her pale face. "My reasons weren't good, Rev. They were selfish and stupid, and the results, as you call them, could never be justified."  
  
Rev looked at her, pity and sadness clutching at him. What in the world had happened to the courageous, strong woman he had left nearly four years ago? What had happened to her to turn her into this broken, wasted ghost?  
  
"Beka, whatever your reasons were, and whatever the outcome was, you can tell me. I would never hate you, no matter what you did."  
  
Beka swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Briefly closing her eye, she stared down at the floor by her feet and started stammering out her story.  
  
Her voice started out barely above a whisper, but as she kept on going, sobs filled her words and she sobbed out the rest, her voice rising in grief and guilt.  
  
She told him everything. She didn't leave anything out.  
  
She told him how Harper had died, how she had blamed Tyr for it and how Dylan had insisted on continuing with the war. Then, she told him how the Andromeda had blown up, and how they had lost Rommie, and later, how they had lost Dylan, even though she had tried so hard to save him. Then, how Trance had left her and how she was left all alone. How she had been crushed under the guilt of having abandoned Harper and having broken her promise to him. How she became convinced that by keeping the promise she'd made to Dylan, that she'd somehow mend that broken promise. She stumbled through the years of the war, telling him about Charlemagne's death, the Admiral's constant taunts, the constant failures, losing her eye, having Tyr marry Elsbett and having him pull the Pride out of the war. She was sobbing as she told him how she had stubbornly continued with the war, even after the Than refused to join her, and the General sacrificed his life for her. At that point, Rev interupted and quietly remarked how it had been very noble of him. Beka had stared at him, her grief stricken tears coursing down her cheeks and she had retorted bitterly that he would have never needed to sacrifice his life, or even fight in a war he didn't want to fight, if she would have taken the time to stop and think about what she was doing. Bitterly sobbing, she continued with her story, stumbling over her final surrender, how she lost her arm and the Commander had died saving her, and how the Dragans were now hunting the Colonel and her.  
  
When she was done, she bit her trembling lip and stared up at Rev. He was looking at her, quiet pity in his eyes. Beka held her breath as she searched for any resentment or anger in them. But there wasn't any. Only understanding and pity.  
  
"You don't—you don't hate me, Rev?" she whispered.  
  
He shook his head. "No. I told you, I could never hate you, Rebecca. No matter what you did."  
  
"But I did so many bad things, Rev. So many bad things. I pushed everyone away from me because I was too busy grieving to notice that they needed me. And I killed and hurt so many innocent people because I never stopped to see that I was being stupid and living in a dream, which they never woke me up from because they cared about me so much." She sobbed. "Rev, I killed all of them, and I hurt all of them, even my friends, and they still cared about me so much in the end that they even sacrificed their lives for me because I was living in a stupid, shattered dream. Rev, I was so selfish, and so stupid! I kept on thinking that I could mend that promise I had made to Harper by fulfilling Dylan's, but I never stopped to see how many people were dying because of that promise and how many people I hurt because of it. I did everything wrong, Rev. I abandoned Trance when she needed me most, I kept Dylan's promise with blood and death which he would have never wanted, I let Charlemagne and the General and the Commander put their lives on the line for years because I was too blind and self-centered to notice what I was doing, and they died at the end. I made Alaric lose his father, and Elsbett her husband, I made the Colonel into a fugitive, Dylan's Commonwealth is gone, and I threw hundreds of people's lives out the window because I never stopped to think or care." She slowly shook her head, still sobbing. "Rev, I made so many mistakes. So many. And you know what? What's so damn funny about this whole mess?" she laughed harshly. "At the end, I couldn't mend that broken promise. After years of death, grief, pain and misery, I still couldn't fix it."  
  
Rev sat there, quietly looking at her. He leaned forward. "Rebecca, what promise is this that you made to Harper?"  
  
She sniffed. "I promised never to leave him and never to abandon him. And I did."  
  
Rev stared at her. Slowly, understanding dawned on his face. And at the same time, a look of horrified pity.  
  
He gaped at her, speechless, before he finally found his voice. "Beka, you don't mean you think you abandoned him the day he died?"  
  
Wordlessly, she nodded her head.  
  
Rev stared at her in shock. "Beka, you and I both know that there was nothing—"  
  
"Rev, there had to be. There always was. Whenever times got hard, no matter how bad they got, I always saved him. Always. And I could have that last time too, but I didn't try hard enough, and then that bastard prevented me from even keeping on trying."  
  
Rev stared. "Beka…" he said, speaking slowly and patiently as if he was talking to a child. "Beka, listen to me. Listen to me very carefully. There was nothing you could have done for Harper that day. Nothing. Even if Harper would have lived for a few more years, no amount of money, bribes, or miracles would have saved him. There was nothing you could have done. There was no way you could have saved him. And what's more, Harper knew that. Why do you think he didn't die being angry with you? Why do you think he asked you to let him go? Because you had done everything you could have done for him. You had given him everything that you could have for five years, Beka. You gave him happiness, a family and a home. Even if it cost you the Maru, you always went out of your way to help him. And he knew that. At the end, he knew that you couldn't save him, and he never expected you to, Beka. He never did. You did enough for him, Beka. That's why he asked you to let him go. Because you did all that you could for him."  
  
Beka stared at the floor, her mind feeling numb. Rev's words flew around her mind like missiles. She slowly started to let the words sink in. She had done all that she could have done for him. She frowned in confusion. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Harper must still hate her, Harper must still believe she had abandoned him.  
  
But a part of her was starting to accept what Rev had said.  
  
Slowly, she leaned back against her chair, staring with numb shock out of her windsheild.  
  
For the first time in years, she allowed it to sink in.  
  
She hadn't broken that promise she had made. And she had done all that she could have done for him. Harper didn't hate her. He had asked her to let him go.  
  
Slowly, she felt something within her leaving her. For a moment she didn't know what it was, but then realized it was guilt. That endless, painful guilt which had clung to her heart for all this time.  
  
The guilt which had driven her into this mess. The guilt which had destroyed so many lives, killed so many people, and had led to her really breaking a promise to Harper. The promise to always take care of herself.  
  
She stared up at Rev, her shock still evident in her face and in her eye.  
  
"Oh, my God, Rev. I've made a huge mistake." She whispered, sick horror filling her.  
  
Rev slowly nodded. "Yes, you did, Rebecca, but you didn't mean to."  
  
She hadn't heard him. "Rev, that mistake cost hundreds of peoples lives. Oh, my God."  
  
She stared up at him, horror in her eye. But there was something else. An urgency.  
  
"Rev," she swallowed. "Rev, I need to fix things. I need to make things right now." She stammered.  
  
Rev looked at her. "Beka you can't go back and erase everything—"  
  
Despair clutched at her. "I know that, Rev. But I have to do something. I can't just let this all stay like this. Damn it, I have to do something right!"  
  
Rev slowly nodded and stared at the floor, lost in thought. Finally, something occurred to him.  
  
"Well, Rebecca, you know that you can't possibly set everything straight, but you can start somewhere. It'll be a small step, but it's a step forward, not backwards." He looked up at her. "You can go and make peace with Tyr."  
  
Beka stared at him, confused for a moment. It took her a second to understand what he was talking about, but suddenly, it hit her.  
  
"Oh, my God, Rev." she said softly, horror in her voice. "I blamed Tyr." She whispered. She snapped her head up and stared at him. "I blamed Tyr for not giving me the chance to help Harper. I never forgave him for killing Harper." Despair clutched at her. Here was another mess to add to her long list of stupid mistakes that she had made.  
  
Rev nodded. "Yes, Beka. You never forgave him for that. Although you now, hopefully, realize that Tyr did what was kindest and most noblest at the time. He spared Harper hours of painful torture and a horrific death. He spared him that. And you thanked him by shunning him and by holding a bitter grudge against him all this time."  
  
Beka stared at him, completely shocked and horrified.  
  
"Go and make peace with him, Beka. It's a small step, but I do believe it's a step in the right direction."  
  
Beka slowly nodded. She could fix things. She would never be able to fix everything, but she could start somewhere.  
  
And she'd start with Tyr.  
  
It wasn't easy to get in touch with Tyr. Finding him was the easy part. Finding a way to see him was a whole different story.  
  
The Colonel wouldn't hear of it. When Beka had casually said that they were flying over to the Sabra-Jaguar homeworld to see Tyr, the Colonel had looked at her as if she was insane.  
  
"Captain, kindly remember that you and I are the most hunted women in the universe right now. Sitting in a rustbucket and changing our appearances keeps the Dragans off our tails, but if you march right into Nietzschean territory, waving a flag around, do you really think nobody would notice? Captain, I hate to tell you this, but there are a lot of people on that planet who would like nothing more than to hand you over to the Dragans."  
  
Beka had to agree with her. Biting her lip, she reluctantly decided to talk to him over the screen. She would have liked it much better to talk to him in person, but the risk was too great. Besides, she didn't want to risk the Colonel's neck any more than she already had.  
  
Marching back to the cockpit, Beka asked the Colonel to come and help her tinker around with the com link until the Maru's signal would be masked from any Nietzschean tracking devices.  
  
Nervously gripping her armrest with her metallic hand, Beka tried to keep her face low as the Nietzschean on the screen above her glared down at her.  
  
"The Archduke doesn't see anybody without having asked for them. Especially cyborgs who hail him from the middle of nowhere."  
  
Beka swallowed a sob as she heard the disdain in his voice when he called her that. She briefly closed her eye. That's what she was now. That's what the world saw her as. A cyborg. A broken, wasted machine with human emotions.  
  
She cleared her throat. She forced herself to be strong. She couldn't let him see she was hurt or upset. She had to keep a hold of herself if she was going to do this.  
  
She briefly glanced up at him. "If the Archduke won't see me, then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell him that I hailed him and wish to speak with him. If you relay my name to him, I'm sure he'll be willing to give me two minutes of his time."  
  
The Nietzschean paused, sniffing down his nose at her. His genetic superiority had probably never been so pronounced as it was when he was speaking with someone like her.  
  
He pursed his lips. "And if I do happen to pass a message of your desire onto the Archduke, who would I be saying requested his presence?"  
  
Beka was about to reply, when she quickly snapped her mouth shut. Shit. She couldn't tell him who she really was. She couldn't even tell him she was the captain of the Maru. Either way, the Nietzschean on the screen would recognize her, or someone else would. It was too dangerous. Her eye darted across her floor, her mind desperately reeling. But she couldn't just make up any name. It would have to be a name which Tyr would recognize and connect with her.  
  
She toyed with the idea of saying she was the captain of the Andromeda Ascendent, but that was too risky too. Damn it! What name would Tyr recognize, what name would he immediately connect with her?  
  
Suddenly, she got it. Glancing up at the screen, she answered him, her voice strong.  
  
"Tell him that the Captain of the Shining Path to Truth and Knowledge wishes to have a few words with him. Tell him I have some information of the whereabouts of the two fugitive military leaders of the allies."  
  
Immediately, interest flared up in the Nietzschean's eyes. He gave her a small nod and quickly turned around to a console and started punching around on it.  
  
Tyr was sitting at his desk, his legs propped up on the top, and a heavy leather bound book in his lap. He listlessly turned the page. It was damn quiet today. Too quiet.  
  
Elsbett had taken Chanhassen out for a walk in the gardens, and Alaric was with his grandfather. Tyr wasn't used to the peace and quiet which surrounded him.  
  
He found his eyes roaming off the page he was reading, and found himself staring around the room.  
  
Suddenly, a light started blinking at him from the viewscreen which sat on his desk.  
  
Frowning, Tyr leaned over and turned it on, not having a clue who it might be. He prayed it wasn't his wife's mother-in-law again. The damn old woman had been nagging him for days to come over for a formal dinner.  
  
Elsbett had recoiled from the idea and Tyr was less than excited about the prospect. Even Chanhassen had glared disapprovingly. Only Alaric had jumped up excitedly.  
  
Tyr sighed and looked up at the viewscreen, toying with the idea of pretending to have fallen down and broken both his legs so he would have an excuse for not attending.  
  
However, when the image of a Nietzschean appeared on the screen, he frowned and leaned forward.  
  
The man cleared his throat. "Uhm, my lordship, if I may interupt you for a moment…"  
  
Tyr gave him a nod. He continued. "A hail came for you, sir. A woman wishes to speak with you right away."  
  
Tyr quickly scrolled through a list of women who would want to speak with him. He couldn't come up with any asides from his wife's mother-in-law.  
  
"Could you trace the signal of the hail?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, sir. We tried, but there is some kind of interference in her com link. I don't think its deliberate, but we still can't trace it."  
  
Tyr was about to frown in suspicion, but quickly made his face remain impassive. Whoever it was was obviously clever enough to disguise her ship and make it look accidental. Suddenly, he was more interested.  
  
"Did the woman say who she was?"  
  
The man nodded, nervously. "She says she had information about the two military leaders who are still at large." He swallowed. "She says she is the captain of the Shining Path to Truth and Knowledge. I believe—yes, that was the ships name. She says you would know who she was."  
  
Tyr frowned. For a moment the name meant nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. Except for a little, nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he had heard that name somewhere before, he didn't recognize it. He had never heard of a ship having such an elaborate and fancy name. He smiled. Not since the days of the High Guard where they would always name their ships such things were there such descriptive names. Especially Glorious Heritage Cruisers. Their names were sometimes unbelievably—  
  
Suddenly, his eyes widened. His legs fell of the table and the book on his lap slid off and landed with a thud on the floor.  
  
Glorious Heritage Cruisers. Shining Path to Truth and Knowledge. The Andromeda! Good lord, who the hell would know the Andromeda's official name? Nobody would. It hadn't ever been something Dylan or Rommie flaunted around, since it was relatively unimportant. No. Only a member of their crew would know that name.  
  
He nearly fell of his chair as he suddenly realized who was trying to hail him. A small smile of admiration tugged at the corner of his mouth as he silently congratulated Captain Valentine for her devious cleverness. Very original.  
  
At the same time, he was quick to pull the signs of shock and surprise off his face. He cooly gave the man on the screen a nod.  
  
"Put her on screen." He said. Then, he quickly added: "And cut of all tracking devices attached to our connection. I want this to be a private matter."  
  
Without a word, the man nodded and disappeared off his screen.  
  
For a moment, static replaced his image as the man connected Beka's com link to Tyr's. While he waited, Tyr thoughtfully stared at the static, wondering why the most wanted woman in the known worlds wanted to get in touch with him. Why after all these years she wanted to speak with him. Why she would risk her life to get in touch with him.  
  
Beka had just started drumming her metallic fingers on her armrest when the screen above her went dark, and was suddenly replaced by the image of the Archduke of the Sabra-Jaguar Pride.  
  
Beka stared at him.  
  
He was calmly sitting in his chair, one of his legs propped up on the table in front of him, and his arms calmly crossed on his chest.  
  
He was staring at her, a mixture of surprise and admiration in his glance.  
  
Beka found she couldn't keep on looking at him, and dropped her gaze.  
  
She cleared her throat. That guilt and that fear were back, clutching her heart with their tiny claws. She felt so guilty over what she had done to Tyr that she wanted nothing more than to fall down, cry and beg for forgiveness. But she couldn't do that. She had to stay strong. That voice in the back of her mind laughed at that. Who the hell was she kidding, she thought. She wasn't strong. Not by a long shot. She had never been strong. Otherwise, she would have been able to deal with this whole mess years ago before muddling it up into this chaos.  
  
She swallowed hard. Then there was her fear too. The fear that Tyr would hate her, and shun her, and tell her that her apologies meant nothing to him.  
  
Screwing up the leftover fragments of her courage, she glanced up at him. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Tyr. I know I put you in a lot of danger by contacting you like this, but I don't think there should be a problem, providing your people don't work too hard at tracing my signal."  
  
Tyr held up a hand. "Captain Valentine, if I thought you were putting me in any danger, do you really think I would have agreed to see you?" he laughed softly. "Anyway, Captain, I am a very busy man these days and I'd appreciate it if you come right out and say what you came here to say. I trust it isn't to discuss surrendering. I have received news that you finally regained what little of your common sense you had left and surrendered a few months ago. I would congratulate you, but it came so late and was so overdue that I find myself having no reaction to it other than marvelling at the fact that you finally regained some of the common sense I always admired within you."  
  
Beka didn't reply. It was true. Every word of it. Besides, she was still trying to control that little voice in the back of her mind which was nagging at her to run away. She gripped her armrest with her metallic arm so hard that she felt the old metal beneath her fingers denting. Well, that grip should keep her glued to her chair.  
  
She couldn't be a coward now. No. She had been a coward for so long. She had to try to be strong just this once.  
  
Tyr was still looking at her. He could see the flicker of emotions running across her face and saw her mental battle raging within her. She was trying to decided whether she should say what she came to say, or whether she should run. For the life of him, Tyr still couldn't figure out what she was doing here or why she wanted to speak with him.  
  
He glanced her over. He couldn't believe how much she had changed. Not only had her appearance shocked him quite badly, but it was on the inside where she had truly changed. Sitting on the screen in her battered, old ship was a broken, wasted woman whose strength and independence had vanished. She was no longer the strong, willful woman she had once been. What remained of her earlier self was now lost in a cloak of despair, and fear and hidden behind a metallic implant, reddish orange spikes, a pale face, and a long, metallic arm.  
  
Beka swallowed hard, letting her eye drift onto the floor of her ship. She had to do this. She had to. And she could too. She knew she could. Even if she couldn't do anything else anymore, she could do this.  
  
Licking her dry, trembling lips, Beka looked up at Tyr, guilt and despair in her eyes.  
  
"Tyr, I came to apologize." She whispered, her voice weak and faint. Her voice, just like the rest of her, was just a faint ghost of who she used to be.  
  
Tyr stared at her. This he had not been expecting. Anger and resentment at him pulling the pride out and leaving her to be slaughtered by the Dragans, yes. Spitefullness at having escaped the Dragans without his help, yes. But apologies, no.  
  
He frowned. "My dear Captain, you've lost me. What would you need to apologize for? The war?" he laughed bitterly. "If that's what you came for, you might as well spare me. Don't apologize to me. Go and apologize to the hundreds of families who have lost loved ones because of your war."  
  
Beka fought to keep guilty tears from brimming her lids. She wouldn't break down now. Damn you, she swore at herself.  
  
Fighting within her to keep her fear from engulfing her and letting her eyes drift back onto the floor, she kept on looking at Tyr.  
  
"No, not for the war." She said softly. "I know that that's something which no amount of my apologies can wipe away. I know that that's a mistake I won't ever be able to repay." She took a deep breath. "I came to apologize for something that happened a long time ago."  
  
Tyr leaned forward. He still didn't understand, but at least he realized that she wasn't as far gone as he thought she was.  
  
"I came to apologize for blaming you for Harper's death." She said softly.  
  
Tyr froze. All thoughts fled from his mind and he found himself completely numb as he stared at her. He tried opening his mouth to reply, but found himself speechless.  
  
It took a moment for her words to sink in. It took him even longer to remember why she had blamed him for Harper's death.  
  
But then it hit him.  
  
His eyes widened as he stared at her, still numb with shock.  
  
Immediately, that guilt engulfed him. His nightmare came flying back and hit him in the face.  
  
"Tyr, why did you do it?"  
  
The cure…the cure…the cure…  
  
"You killed him! You killed him! Murderer!"  
  
Beka's hysterical words screamed in his numb mind as he remembered.  
  
Remembered the guilt. Remembered the regret. Remembered the countless nights he had spent lying awake and thinking that there was something else he could have done for him. Something which would have saved Harper's life. Something which would have stopped him from killing him.  
  
He stared at Beka, who was looking at him with guilt ridden tears brimming her eye lids.  
  
He opened his mouth again and finally found his voice.  
  
"Beka, why after all this time are you bringing him up again? Why?" he asked softly, mentally begging her to go away and pull all of his guilt, all of his thoughts and all of his nightmares with her.  
  
Beka took a shaky breath. "Because I made a very big mistake and I owe it to you to apologize for it."  
  
"What mistake?" Tyr asked.  
  
Beka briefly shut her eye before looking at him again. "That day that Harper died, I blamed you for his death. I accused you of killing him. I blamed you for it, because I always thought that we could have done something else for him, and that you robbed us of that chance."  
  
Tyr took a deep breath. The guilt and regret were clutching at him now and he felt a fear pass through him which made him want to run from the room. He thought that this must be how Beka must feel like everyday now.  
  
"Beka, you had every right to blame me for what I did." He gave a small, bitter laugh. "Beka, I've been blaming and hating myself for that for years now. You were right. If I wouldn't have been so hasty, if I would have just stopped and let him have a few more days, then Trance might have been able to find a cure, or we might have found some other way to help him."  
  
The tears of guilt now ran down Beka's cheek. She shook her head. "No." she said softly, guilt in her voice. "No, Tyr. That's what I thought too, but then Rev told me that there was nothing we could have done for him. And that Harper knew it. That was why he willingly died when he did. That was why he didn't hate any of us. There was nothing else we could have done for him, Tyr. And that's why I'm sorry. Because I'm the reason behind the guilt you feel and the regret that you've lived with for years now." She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." She whispered.  
  
Tyr stared at her, slowly letting her words sink in.  
  
Slowly, he felt his guilt leaving him. Slowly, he felt the heavy regret he had lunged around in his heart leaving him. Suddenly, he realized it was a lot quieter around him than it had been a few moments ago. He frowned as he turned his head, thinking where the extra noise would have come from.  
  
Then, he finally realizes what it had been. Beka's hysterical, accusing, grief filled voice screaming at him that he had killed Harper. That voice, it had finally faded out.  
  
An immense feeling of relief descended around him. He looked up at Beka.  
  
"Thank you, Beka. You don't know how much that means to me."  
  
Beka lowered her gaze. She had thought that apologizing to him would make her feel better. She had quietly hoped that it would make some of her guilt and despair go away.  
  
But it didn't.  
  
It hadn't erased her guilt. It hadn't brought back those hundreds of people she had killed. It didn't bring back Dylan's Commonwealth. It didn't give the Colonel her freedom back. It didn't make things alright.  
  
And she couldn't fix any of it.  
  
Suddenly, she started sobbing.  
  
Tyr frowned and leaned forward, looking at her with pity in his eyes. Evidently, Beka Valentine had finally stopped chasing her ghosts and living in a shattered dream, but the world to which she had woken up hadn't been a gentle one.  
  
"What's wrong, Beka?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.  
  
Beka glanced up at him through her tears. Without a moments hesitation, she started painfully stumbling through her lost list of mistakes.  
  
Tyr listened without a word. He knew more than half of what she was telling him. Military reports, gossip from bars and the disgust filled discussions of his Pride had always kept him well informed about the good Captain's doings.  
  
He knew that this day would come soon. He had always suspected that either one of her loyal henchmen would finally break down and yell at her until she woke up, or that she kept on going until she hit a wall and fell. Evidently, she had done the latter, and the wall had been unforgiving and hard.  
  
He looked at her, feeling incredibly sorry for her. He had never seen such a guilt ridden, broken woman in his life.  
  
He couldn't stand it. Especially because he had known her before she had turned into such a mess and he knew what a fine woman she used to be, but also because there was nothing he could do to help her.  
  
He frowned, suddenly deep in thought.  
  
Beka, meanwhile, had finished sobbing out her story to him and was staring at him, guilty tears still coursing down her cheek.  
  
"And I can't fix any of it Tyr. I thought that coming here and telling you that I'm sorry would fix everything, but it can't. Nothing can." She started crying again. "Tyr, all I want to do is make things right and fix things. I don't care about my life anymore. If it would help make anything right I'd go and give myself up to the Admiral himself without a thought, but it wouldn't bring any of the people I've killed back and it wouldn't heal the wounds I've caused. And I can't just ignore it. I've made such a damn mess, I need to fix it somehow. I can't leave it like this. I've made too many mistakes. But I don't know what to do, Tyr. What should I do? Who should I go to?"  
  
Tyr looked at her, still lost in thought. While she had been speaking, a sudden idea had flickered  
  
across his mind.  
  
He nearly smiled at the idea. It was so ridiculous, so blatantly impossible and out of this world that he questioned his sanity for a moment.  
  
But the idea wouldn't leave his mind.  
  
He tried shaking his head and tearing that ridiculous smile off his face.  
  
Beka saw the smile. Saw the thoughts which were flying across the Nietzscheans mind. With a lurch, that hope within her flickered on again.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and her sobs faded.  
  
"What?" she asked, her voice still raw with tears.  
  
Tyr smiled at her and waved a hand at her. "Nothing, nothing." He shook his head. "Just a crazy, insane idea, which, if my wife found out I had, she might order me to go and have some psychiatric help."  
  
But Beka had already jumped on it. She was clinging to that small ray of hope within her which Tyr had thrown at her with her nails, determined not to let it go.  
  
"What idea?"  
  
Tyr shook his head again. "Beka, forget about it. It's crazy and insane and impossible."  
  
She refused to let go. "Tyr, I'm desperate here. No matter how insane or impossible your idea might be, you have to tell me what it is. Whatever it might be, it's bound to be better than nothing. And nothing is all I have right now." She looked at him, pleadingly. "Please."  
  
Tyr shook his head again and held up a hand. "Beka, I told you, it's not in the least way a feasible idea. It's not even a sane idea."  
  
"Please, Tyr. I'll do anything to fix this mess. Anything. Even if it means attempting a crazy, impossible idea of yours."  
  
Tyr looked at her pale face, streaked with guilty tears and the silent hope in her eyes. Finally, he sighed.  
  
"Beka, I'm telling you, it's impossible. Not because the end of it would be too hard to accomplish, but because what you'd need to start it would be impossible to find."  
  
"What do I need?" Beka asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Tyr sighed. "You'd need two things, both of which you, being in your current position, would have a very hard time getting your hands on." Tyr looked at her, and saw that he wasn't shaking her off. That hope refused to leave her eye. He briefly looked down at his desk before meeting her eye again.  
  
"You'd only need two things for it to work. One of them would a certain purple pixie whose present where abouts neither of us know and who could be dead for all we know, and secondly, you'd need a working Tesseract machine, which, you being in your current position, would be impossible find. Besides, if I remember correctly, the only working Tesseract machine which ever existed was on the Andromeda and made by Harper's own hands without having followed any plans. Even if he did have any plans, they would have been destroyed right along with the ship." He talked slowly and patiently, trying to demonstrate to her the absurdity of his idea.  
  
But Beka's mind was already running ahead of his. Her numb, guilt ridden mind suddenly cleared and her mind was reeling with a thousand different thoughts.  
  
As soon as Tyr had told her what his plan would involve, she had immediately understood what he was saying.  
  
She stared up at him. "You mean to say that if we go back and change things, that it'll make things alright?"  
  
Tyr held up a hand. "Beka, I'm telling you, it's an absurd and crazy plan and it would never work. It's a nice idea, but it's too far fetched. Surely you realize that."  
  
But Beka wasn't listening. That faint hope was spreading throughout her and some of her old strength was returning.  
  
She had finally found a way to make things okay. A way to fix things. She stared up at Tyr, wild hope in her eyes.  
  
"Tyr, would you help me?" she asked sofly.  
  
Tyr looked at her, crossing his arms across his chest again. The insane woman was actually thinking about going through with his plan. She was actually thinking that it was feasible.  
  
But, as he looked at her, he realized that he owed it to her. He couldn't just leave her like this. Leave her hanging by her fingernails to the hope he had given her. Leave her drowning in her own despair and guilt.  
  
He owed it to at least try and help her.  
  
Slowly, he nodded. "I'm probably going to regret this some time soon, and Lord knows what Elsbett's mother-in-law would say if she knew I was helping the most wanted woman in the universe, but, yes, I'll help you." He leaned forward. "So, Captain Valentine, what do you need me to do?"  
  
Beka stared at him, relief and gratitude shining in her eye. Tyr was glad to see some of her strength and vigor returning. She no longer looked like a fading ghost. Although she would never again look like her former, younger self, Tyr knew that she was slowly starting to heal.  
  
Although the sleepwalker had woken and fallen, she was slowly starting to stand back up on her own two feet. She was ready to fight again.  
  
Beka looked at him.  
  
"Tyr, I need you to find two people for me. It won't be easy, but you have to promise you'll try." She quickly let her special eye roam around her cockpit. "You need to go to San-Ska-Ree and find Trance. She's been working on the Than relief missions for years now. She's probably still there. Then go to Sinti, and find Hoehne. They'll help me. I know they will."  
  
Without a word, Tyr nodded, and reached over and turned off his viewscreen.  
  
Not even pausing to pick up the leather bound book which still lay in a heap by his feet, he started pressing buttons underneath his viewscreen.  
  
Moments later, a Nietzschean appeared on his screen. "Yes, my lordship?"  
  
"I need you to contact San-Ska-Ree for me immediately. Ask to speak with the Than General there who was in charge of the relief missions during the war. Ask for a certain Trance Gemini. As soon as you find her, contact me and put her through."  
  
"If I make contact with this individual, shall I contact you right away, or wait for a more desirable time, my lordship?"  
  
Tyr stared at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to retort that this little errand was depended on by the entire universe, but he knew that he would sound ridiculous if he said it. Instead, he just gave the man a firm nod. "Contact me immediately. Time and place don't matter."  
  
The man swallowed and his eyes widened at the prospect of him being in charge of something so important. Quickly nodding, he looked at Tyr.  
  
"I'm on my way, sir. I'll contact you as soon as I have some news."  
  
Tyr nodded. "Good. But hurry."  
  
Without another word, Tyr turned off his viewscreen and started drumming his fingers on his desk.  
  
Hold on, Captain Valentine, he thought to himself. He prayed that she would keep on fighting and not give up yet. He'd help her fix things. One way or another. He'd help her make things right. He knew she couldn't do it by herself. She was too weak and drained from having tried so hard to fight by herself all this time. He'd help her.  
  
And if Beka wouldn't do it for herself, or for the hundreds of people whom she had hurt, she'd do it for a young, cocky mudfoot engineer, whose death had thrown an entire universe into chaos.  
  
Tyr smiled. Harper never had any idea of what he and Beka were now willing to do. Going to the ends of the universe to find a purple pixie, going all the way to Sinti to find an aging Perseid, and trying to make a machine whose duplicate had only been made once before. All of this just to prevent the death of a young, cocky, mudfoot engineer who, in life, had always been scorned and ridiculed and in the large part, ignored by the universe, and who had absolutely no idea of the enormous consequences his death would cause. Of the pain and misery which would still be making repercussions years after his death. He had no idea.  
  
Bending over, he gently picked up the book and tossed it onto his desk.  
  
"Well, little man. You never knew how special you really were. How much you meant to so many people. And if all goes well, you'll never need to know about the future you caused by dying." He said softly. 


	15. Chapter 15

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 15  
  
* * * * * (a week later) * * * * *  
  
Beka sat in the kitchen on a stool, drumming her metallic fingers on the table top. The Colonel glanced over at her from where she stood at the sink, rinsing out her coffee cup.  
  
"She'll be here any second. The Archduke said she'd be here today, and you know it, but if you drill a hole into that countertop, you're going to spend your morning patching it up and not reminiscing with an old friend."  
  
Beka scowled at her, but stopped her drumming. She glanced around the kitchen, her special eye zooming in closer to the glass the Colonel had just washed. She spied a coffee stain on its side.  
  
Beka nodded at it. "The cup's still dirty." She muttered.  
  
The Colonel glanced at it, noticed the stain and scowled back at her over her shoulder before turning the tap back on.  
  
Suddenly, Beka heard the sound of the airlock opening. Her breath caught in her throat. That was Trance.  
  
Her head jerked up and she looked across the table at the Colonel.  
  
The Colonel glanced at Beka, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at her in that fishy way of hers.  
  
"What are you sitting there for? Go and greet her already!" she muttered at her before going back to washing the cup.  
  
Beka slowly pushed herself up and started walking out of the kitchen and down the corridor.  
  
She took a deep breath as she walked.  
  
Well, here goes anything, she thought, as she rounded the final corner and stopped in front of the airlock.  
  
She stopped and stared as she saw her standing there.  
  
She had her back to Beka and was punching into the access panel beside the door. Abruptly, the airlock doors whined and slammed shut.  
  
"Well, at least the code hasn't changed." Beka heard her mutter, before she turned around and saw her.  
  
Beka's breath caught in her throat as she saw her. She stared. That couldn't be Trance. No way.  
  
The woman in front of her was no where near the purple pixie who had stepped off her ship years ago.  
  
Her purple skin had changed to a faint golden brown color, and her normally bright childish dresses had been replaced by a frayed, tattered leather outfit which resembled the one Beka was wearing. Her hair had changed too. Gone were the orange, purple, blond curls into which she used to stick sparkly pins and flowers. Now, long reddish brown braids hung down her back and down her shoulders and nearly reached her waist. Two white horns framed the top of her head.  
  
But underneath the hair and in the golden, sharper face were her eyes. Beka stared at them.  
  
They hadn't changed. Although the rest of her looked older and, well, harder, her eyes still looked the same.  
  
She was staring at Beka, surprise and confusion in her eyes, but underneath that, Beka could see the old understanding and kindness.  
  
This was still her Trance. Although she looked different, Beka could see it and feel it around her that this was still her Trance.  
  
Trance stared at her. For a moment, she hadn't recognized her. For a moment she had toyed with the idea that she had gotten the wrong ship and was facing a complete stranger. But after glancing around and seeing that she was really standing on the Maru, and quickly running through the possibilities that this wasn't Beka Valentine and finding those chances too slim to be worth anything, she realized that she hadn't been mistaken.  
  
Trance stared at her. So much had changed in her. That metallic implant covering nearly her entire face and hiding deep and ugly scars, that reddish orange spiky hair, and the torn, dirty leather outfit she was wearing were all a far cry from the Beka she once knew.  
  
As Trance glanced her over, her eyes grew even wider as she stared at the long, metallic arm which hung by her side where her real arm used to be.  
  
But most shocking of all was the look in Beka's one real eye. The only thing which remained of her old self in her new face. The despair and the guilt which shone in it. The bitterness. The lack of hope.  
  
Trance frowned slightly. She had known that things would turn out badly for Beka when she had left her, but she had had no idea that this would happen to her.  
  
Oh, well. It didn't matter now. What mattered was that she had found her. And that she could help her.  
  
Still looking at her, trying to keep all signs of pity and horror from her eyes, Trance gave her a faint smile.  
  
Beka stared at that smile. That was Trance's smile.  
  
"Hello, Beka." She said, softly.  
  
Beka gave her a small nod. "Hello, Trance." She glanced down at the metal grating floor of her ship. "It's been a while." She said, trying desperately to think of something else to say.  
  
Trance nodded. "Well, when I told you that I'd been seeing you later, I didn't mean anytime soon. I mean what I said about seeing you years later."  
  
Beka half smiled. Trance found the smile rather unsettling coming from the face it was in. She could tell that Beka wasn't used to smiling.  
  
"Well, you didn't lie then."  
  
Trance shook her head. "I never do. I never did, and I still don't."  
  
Beka nodded her head again.  
  
Trance looked at her. She could see how uncomfortable Beka was and how she didn't have a clue as to what she should say.  
  
Trance gave her a gentle smile. "Beka, it's me here. I'm Trance. You don't have to be afraid of me, or be uncomfortable. It's just me. The same as always."  
  
Beka looked at her. Slowly, the uncertainty left her. That feeling of alienation drained away from her.  
  
But when that left, a sense of curiousity took it's place. Beka looked at her.  
  
"Trance, I know you never answer any questions when it comes to your personal life, but I'm just dying to know—"  
  
"What happened to me?" Trance finished for her. She raised an eyebrow and smiled. She knew the question would come. Just as surely as Beka knew that Trance was going to ask her the same thing.  
  
Beka slowly nodded. Trance grinned. Her grin seemed less childish and less innocent than it used to be. It seemed harder, and older. But it was still her grin.  
  
"Alright, I'll tell you. I'll try to make it brief and clear, but I doubt you'll understand half of it anyway, but I can tell you now. I reached the point where it's safe to talk about certain stuff." Trance gave her an easy shrug. Then she raised an eyebrow. "But, I'll only talk if you talk too. I want to know what happened to Beka Valentine since I last left her on this ship. Deal?"  
  
Beka slowly nodded.  
  
Trance smiled. "Good. Now, can we go to the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee? I spent all morning trying to find this dirtball of a planet and the coffee maker on the Than slipfighter was broken. I'm on a caffeine low." She called over her shoulder as she started striding down the corridor towards the kitchen, a large duffel bag over her shoulder.  
  
Another small smile tugged on the corner of Beka's lips as she stared after her friend. So much had changed about her, but still, deep down, she was the same person.  
  
Oh, if only she could still be the same person she used to be.  
  
But Beka pushed that thought out of her head and quickly hurried down the corridor after Trance.  
  
Just before she reached the kitchen, she heard Trance calling over to her and asking her how much coffee she should put into the machine.  
  
As Beka walked into the kitchen, she nearly collided with the Colonel, who was coming out of it. She had given Trance a polite nod, before turning and walking out of the kitchen. As they passed by each other, the Colonel gave her a gentle smile.  
  
"I'll leave you two in peace, Captain." She said.  
  
Beka gave her a faint smile. "Thanks, Colonel." The Colonel laid a gentle hand on Beka's good arm before walking past her down the corridor.  
  
Trance swirled her coffee around in her cup as Beka walked over to her from the coffee machine and sat down across the table from her.  
  
Trance smiled at her. "So, you'd like to know what happened to the little purple pixie you once knew, huh?"  
  
Beka nodded.  
  
"Alright." Trance took a deep breath and took a small, thoughful sip of her coffee. She smiled slightly. "I hardly know where to start. It's been a long time." She stared into her coffee cup for a minute, before glancing up at Beka again. Tossing a few of her braids over her shoulder, she finally settled back. "Well, as I used to always say, when you don't know where to start, go back to the beginning. So. Let's see." She bit her lip, then leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "Beka, I take it that it won't come as a complete surprise to you if I told you that my 'kind' is immortal."  
  
Beka stared. The girl said it as if it was the most natural thing in the universe. But come to think of it, Beka knew that deep down, she had always strongly suspected that it was true. Someone who came back from the dead as regularly as someone waking up in the morning had to be immortal.  
  
"As you can also figure out on your own, being immortal means we don't age. Ever. When we're created—we're not born, since if you're born it technically means that at one point or another you have to die and, well, we don't, so, we're not born, but that's beside the point—so, when we're created, we're created in our first stage. The first stage is kinda like what you people call a childhood. We're young, innocent, naïve and childish. No matter what happens around us, no matter what we live through, we'll stay in that first stage until it's time to change. There will always be time in our existence—I don't like to say 'lives' since we don't live lives, but anyway, that's also beside the point—when we can't go on existing in that first stage. In that first stage, we're just like children, so we can't fight properly, we can't deal with complex emotions and situations and we're very dependent on other people."  
  
Beka nodded. This sounded more like the Trance she once knew. She frowned. "So you mean you can just sit down one day and say you'd like to be in the next stage of your life—sorry, existence, and then poof you suddenly grow up?"  
  
Trance smiled. "Not exactly, but if I want to keep things simple for you, then yes. It's a long complicated process involving time and universe dimension alterations and all kinds of stuff which you wouldn't understand."  
  
Beka looked down at her coffee cup. "So, what happened to you that required for you to change?"  
  
"Technically, we don't call it changing. We just grow up, that's all. We have three stages in total. The childhood stage, the adolescent stage and the adult stage. I'm in my adolescent stage now. But anyway, that's not answering your question." She took a deep breath and swirled her cofee around some more, not looking up at Beka. She was silent for a moment, while her former captain sat across from her, patiently waiting for an answer.  
  
"After I left the Maru, I had nowhere to go. I was in my first stage at the time, and I couldn't live on my own or take care of myself properly. So I went to the Than for help. They took me in and said they'd let me stay if I helped them on their relief missions. For the first little while I didn't know that the deliveries we were making were connected in any way to the war. I just thought they were routine deliveries which the Than had been making to places like Earth for years. But when I heard the General talking one day, I realized we were bringing these relief convoys to all the planets which had been left defenseless during the war, since their troops were fighting by your side, and the Dragans had been preying on them for months." Trance saw the guilt flicker in Beka's eye, and quickly continued. "Anyway, the Dragans didn't do the worst damage. They came, wreaked havoc, and then left. Wherever they went, they destroyed the towns and cities and murdered it's citizens and left them in burning shambles. But then the Kalderans came. They descended on the leftovers like the Magog used to. But they didn't want the people, they only came to pillage and steal everything that wasn't nailed down. So, it became part of our jobs as relief missionaries to not only feed, clothes and provide housing and medication to thousands of refugees, but to also protect them from Kalderans who wouldn't think twice about shooting someone for a small spoon." Trance gently tugged one of her braids behind her ears. "Being among such chaos and misery and the constant danger of the Kalderans, I soon realized that being in my first stage wouldn't suffice. I had to grow up. So I did. After I grew up to my next stage, I was able to deal with the things I was seeing and the people and situations I had to deal with, and I could also learn how to defend myself and fight better." Trance gave her a weak smile. "I would tell you some of the things I've seen over the years, but I'll spare you that. I heard the General already gave you an earful about it. I'm sorry about that."  
  
Beka buried her face in her hands and shook her head. "No, no, no, Trance. I'm the one whose sorry. It was my stupidity and ignorance that brough on all that chaos and misery and forced you to grow up before you had to." She bit her lip. Great. Another mistake. She was just great.  
  
Trance gave her a gentle smile. "Beka, don't blame yourself for that. You couldn't have known, and if you did, you would have stopped the war earlier. I know you would have."  
  
"Would have, could have, should have, but the bottom line is, I didn't. And look at the damn mess that I've gotten myself into."  
  
Trance reached forward and gently pulled Beka's hands from her face. She stared at Beka's face, searching for any sign of the Beka she once knew.  
  
She didn't find a trace.  
  
"Beka, now I'm done with my story, and I want to hear what the hell happened to you to get you and the Colonel—with blond hair I might add—trapped on this dirtball of a planet." Her eyes quickly flickered to the metal implant.  
  
Beka saw the glance. She knew what she wanted to know. She nearly sighed. For the third time in what seemed like only hours, she would have to go through the whole mess again.  
  
She sighed and seriously considered writing it down this time, so when she ran into someone else she used to know she would just give them the flexi and spare herself the time and effort.  
  
But no, Trance deserved to know. Just like Rev and Tyr had deserved to know. After all, they were helping her fix things. The least she could do was be honest with them.  
  
Keeping her head down and her eyes glued to her coffee cup and trying to ignore the many cracks her special eye detected in the cup and the table below it, she stumbled through her story. Again.  
  
She felt like a recording as she went through it all. She was so used to it by now that she didn't even cry as she talked about the General's and the Commander's death and didn't spit in anger when she talked about how Tyr had pulled the pride out.  
  
When she was done, she realized with a little shock how dead her voice had sounded. So void of all emotions.  
  
She glanced up at Trance who was looking at her curiously, probably wondering if Beka's heart had hardened the way the rest of her had.  
  
Beka sighed. "Trance, I know I sound like a dead recording discussing different flower types or something, but I—" she paused, searching for a good way to say it. After mulling it over with a patient Trance looking at her, Beka gave up. "I'm tired Trance. Tired of always having to feel guilty and filled with despair. I'm tired of crying and having my heart being torn in half. I'm tired of always feeling like I have no one to turn to and nowhere to go."  
  
Trance nodded. "I know, Beka. And I understand."  
  
Beka smiled faintly. "I knew you would."  
  
Trance toyed around with her coffee cup, her finger tracing a crack in it's side.  
  
Beka's gaze wandered around her kitchen, staring at the sink and the dryer beside it. Neat rows of cups and plates were lined up inside it. Beka nearly smiled. The Colonel had always been crazy about washing and drying every dish in sight. Come to think of it, Beka couldn't remember the last time she had had to sit down and wash dishes. The Colonel pounced on them before they were even finished eating.  
  
Her gaze landed on the large duffel bag which Trance had lightly tossed onto the counter before sitting down.  
  
Trance was looking at her. "So, Beka. What do you want to do?"  
  
Beka tore her gaze off the bag and looked back at her cup. "You know what I want to do. The question is whether it's possible."  
  
Trance bit her lip. "Well, technically we've got everything we need right here."  
  
"Everything?"  
  
"Yup." Trance nodded her chin at the bag. "Tesseract machine's in the bag."  
  
Beka's eye widened. "You brought a Tesseract machine in a duffel bag?"  
  
Trance nodded and gave her a smile as if she was sitting before a child. "Yes, Beka. I did. I couldn't very well throw it from Sinti to here, now could I?"  
  
"But I thought—"  
  
"I know. Apparently Tyr thought the same thing. But, I knew what you wanted to do before Tyr was finished droning through that immensly long title of his. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and go to Sinti first, talk to Hoehne and help him make the machine before coming here. He explained to me all the techno stuff we'll need to make it work, and I think I'll be able to handle it." She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "My people have been messing around with space and time for thousands of years."  
  
Beka was staring at her. "You mean—" her breath caught in her throat. "You mean we could actually do it? Here and now?"  
  
Trance's smile wavered and she went back to resting her elbows on the table. "Beka, it's not quite that simple."  
  
Beka frowned. What the hell wasn't so simple? Of course it was simple. "Trance, what the hell isn't simple about this? We activate the machine, go back, save Harper's life and then, poof, everything falls into place."  
  
"Beka, it's not that simple, I told you. There's a lot of stuff we have to discuss first." She took a deep breath. "First of all, you want to go back because you want to change what happened, right?"  
  
Beka nodded.  
  
"And you think that saving Harper's life and sacrificing Hoehne's would do that?"  
  
Beka nodded again. "Of course it would. Just think, Trance." She leaned forward, her hope now engulfing her. For the first time in years, she found herself knowing exactly where she was going. Or rather, where she wanted to go. "Harper's death was when everything started going wrong. If we go back and change that, then everything will turn out differently. Rommie won't die, Dylan won't die, the war won't drag on for this long, Charlemagne, the General, and the Commander won't die, the Colonel won't be a fugitive, all those people you have been helping won't be homeless and living in despair, and—"  
  
Trance held up a hand. "Beka, I'll admit, it all sounds nice. But you have to think if Harper's death was directly linked to all those events."  
  
"But of course—" Beka interupted with a cry.  
  
"Beka, be reasonable. Just because Harper won't die that day won't mean the Dragans won't attack the Andromeda, it won't mean the war would be over, and it certainly won't mean that everything will turn out differently. There's a very good chance that everything will happen the exact same way it happened this time around."  
  
Beka abruptly shut her mouth. It was true. That little, nagging voice in the back of her mind knew that it was true. She bit her lip. Fine. She had to stop pretending.  
  
Pretending that she wanted to change all of this mess for a noble cause. Pretending that she just wanted to do this for everyone else and not just for herself.  
  
"Fine, Trance. I'll be honest." She looked Trance directly in the eye. "The reason I want to go back and safe Harper isn't because I'm so damn dillusional that I think everything will turn out differently. But at least, I know that I'll turn out differently. If everything else stays the same, then I won't end up like this. I won't have this guilt, and this grief and this emptiness inside of me. And the same thing goes for you, and for Tyr, and for everyone else. If we don't save Harper for the universe, then we have to for our sakes. For my sake, if for nothing else. I can't do this anymore, Trance. I can't keep on living life without him. I tried. I tried letting him go, I tried getting past his death, but I can't. And I never will. And I'm tired of living like this, Trance."  
  
Trance looked at her, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip. She understood exactly what Beka was saying. It was the same way she had felt many times over the past few years.  
  
She looked at Beka. "And there's something you forgot to add. If we go back, and save Harper's life, then we won't have to live with this pain and this grief, and—" she dropped her gaze and stared at her cold coffee. "—and this guilt." She finished quietly.  
  
Beka frowned at her. "Guilt, Trance? What guilt? For me, it's obvious. I've broken the two promises I made to that man while he was on his death bed, and for that, I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life, but you? What promise did you ever break?"  
  
Trance sighed. "Beka, I promised him that I'd never leave you guys. And that I'd take care of you. I failed him. Badly. I let Tyr go, first, without forcing you two to sit down and talk it all out then and there instead of waiting for four painfilled years. Then I left you." She held up a swift hand. "Beka, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that I had every right to leave, but I shouldn't have. If I would have stuck by your side, I could have helped you make the right choices, I could have helped you deal with things better. I knew how things were going to turn out. Well, not exactly, but I knew what choices you would be facing. And instead of staying and helping you like Harper asked me to, I abandoned you. And for that, I've never forgiven myself. If I wouldn't have broken that promise, everything might have turned out differently."  
  
A painful silence followed this.  
  
Both women were staring at their cold cups of coffee, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Beka looked up.  
  
"You see, Trance? If we go back and save Harper, sure, there's no guarantee that things won't turn out the way they have now, but the one sure thing we know is that the other future which we might make, the one with Harper in it, will have a lot less pain and grief and guilt in it. And just look at what that guilt and pain made me do? I wrecked so many lives, killed so many people and made so many mistakes because I was so blinded by that pain. If that pain isn't there, I won't make those same mistakes." Beka leaned forward, staring at Trance with hope in her eyes. "Trance, I know it's a long shot and there's no guarantee that things will turn out differently, but it's worth a try. A good try."  
  
Trance glanced up at her. "Beka, it's still too much of a gamble. I mean, how do we know that Harper won't die a couple of days, or months or years after we save him? How do we know that he won't into fall the slipstream core, how do we know he won't fry himself in the circuits, or get himself killed while on shoreleave somewhere? We don't know that."  
  
Beka nodded, hope filled tears brimming her eyes. "Trance, I know. I know it's a gamble and that we have no right to take that gamble, but it's worth a shot. Even if everything turns out the way it did this time around, at least then those people we have killed have a chance to live again. Granted, they won't know how or when they'll die, but there's a small chance that they'll do something different and live. Think of all the people we could save, Trance. It's a long shot and a risky gamble, but it's worth it."  
  
Trance stared at her, thoughtfully. She was busy mulling over the probabilities of everything, running over the chances of certain things turning out differently or the exact same way.  
  
Finally, she sighed and looked at Beka.  
  
"Alright. I still say it's risky and a huge gamble, and if my sisters or brothers ever found out I was doing this, they'd probably tie me up and shove me into a slipstream portal, but I'll do it." She gave Beka a nod.  
  
A relieved smile stretched across Beka's face. It felt weird, smiling like that. She hadn't smiled for so long. But it felt good. For the first time in a long time, it felt good to smile.  
  
It felt good to hope.  
  
Hell, it felt good to be alive. Because now, she might be able to fix things. To make things right.  
  
Beka took a deep breath. "Alright, what do we do?"  
  
Trance gave her a gentle smile. "Not so fast, Captain Valentine. We've got a lot of other stuff to sort through first."  
  
"What other stuff?" Beka demanded, impatient. Trance nearly smiled at that. The ghost sitting before her was slowly receeding and the Beka she had once known was coming back. Very slowly and one little bit at a time, but she was coming back.  
  
Beka was still staring at her. "It's simple. We set the machine up, we turn it on, and we go back."  
  
"You see, Beka. There's the problem. The 'we' part of the whole thing."  
  
Beka frowned at her.  
  
Trance sighed. "Beka, I can't take you with me."  
  
This was greeted by a shocked silence. Before Beka had a chance to start angrily complaining and then pleading with Trance to take her, Trance started explaining.  
  
"Listen, Beka. If we go back, we need to somehow be in a position which would allow us to save Harper. That means being in the machine shop just before Harper starts dismantling the machine and we have to turn it on, and remove the magog larvae from his guts. However, we can't just burst into the room, waltz on over there, say 'excuse us' to our younger selves, and turn the machine on. It doesn't work that way."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Trance sighed. "Beka, there's certain rules to time travelling, and certain rules to changing events which happened in the past. We have to do this the right way. That means, I go back and I change places with my younger self."  
  
"Right, and that won't be suspicious?"  
  
Trance held up a hand. "It won't be if I do it right. Chances are, the younger me will know what's going on as soon as she sees the present me, or the older me, whatever you want to call it. She'll be very agreeable with changing places with me and won't put up a fuss about it."  
  
Beka frowned. "But what happens when we destroy the machine afterwards? Won't you come back here and your younger self go back?"  
  
Tance waved another dismissive hand. "Just leave that part up to me. Our kind interacts with time and space differently than your kind does. Changing places in the future or the past isn't difficult for us at all."  
  
"So your younger self will suddenly pop up here, with me now?"  
  
Trance shook her head. "Technically yes, but I won't put my younger self through that. I can only change from one stage to the next once, which means my younger self won't be able to grow up, and I don't want her to have to stay in that stage in this present world. It wouldn't be fair."  
  
Beka was still confused. All this pronoun and time talk was giving her a headache. "So where will she go? Or your younger version? Or—you know what I mean."  
  
Another wave of her hand. "Don't worry about that. Just be reassured that you won't be stuck with a purple, younger version of me."  
  
Beka drummed her metallic fingers on the table top. "This is all fine and dandy, but I don't see why I can't come with you."  
  
Trance sighed. "Beka, it's for a very simple reason. Our plan could work if both of us go, it makes no difference. Even if you came with me, then you'd come back here as soon as the machine is destroyed. That's not where the problem lies."  
  
Beke frowned. "So where exactly is the problem, then?"  
  
Trance looked at her. "Beka, be honest. What would your younger self think if she saw you? The present you? The way you are now?"  
  
Trance's point hit her hard. Beka dropped her gaze. It had been on the tip of her tongue to retort that it wouldn't matter, but she knew it wasn't true. If her younger self saw her like this—this ugly, wasted cyborg that she had become.  
  
Beka sighed and briefly squeezed her eyes shut and curled her metallic fingers into a tight fist. Trance was right. If anybody saw her, anybody except for the younger Trance, they'd be horrified and disgusted.  
  
But still, something within her wouldn't give up. She looked up at Trance, her eyes pleading.  
  
"Trance, look, I know. I have no idea what my younger self would say, but I know it wouldn't be anything good. Besides, there's a good chance I wouldn't even believe myself if I saw myself." Beka nearly shut her mouth as she ran that last sentence over in her mind and nearly laughed at how absurd it sounded. But, looking at Trance's serious face, she knew that in Trance's family, these kinds of statements were probably as normal as saying 'good morning' in the morning.  
  
Pushing that thought out of her mind, she kept on looking at Trance.  
  
"Trance, but I need to go back. I need to see them." She finally blurted out, her voice a quiet plead. It was true. She didn't want to go back to terrify her younger self or traumatize anyone else, but she needed to see them.  
  
Rommie, Dylan, younger Trance, and most importantly, she wanted to see Harper.  
  
Trance bit her lip, hardly able to keep on looking at the wild hope in Beka's eyes. She knew who Beka was talking about. She also knew that Beka was quickly going down the deep end, and that seeing Rommie, Dylan, and most importantly, Harper would be the last good things which would ever happen to her.  
  
Pushing aside all nagging reminders of her siblings—'Never get a mortal involved in time travel and universe alternations. It'll just get messy. They can't understand it.'—she finally sighed.  
  
"Fine, Beka. It goes against everything anyone has ever taught me about messing around with time, but I'll do it. Because you're one of my best friends and it's the least I can do."  
  
A relieved smile flickered across Beka's face. "Thank you, Trance. You don't know how much that means to me." She said quietly.  
  
Trance nodded. "I know, Beka." It was on the tip of her tongue to add that she felt she had to grant Beka this one last favor which anybody would be able to grant her, but she pushed it aside. Beka didn't need to know that now. No. They had more important things to deal with.  
  
Trance sat up straighter, all business again. "Alright, Beka. I'll take you with me, but there are strict rules which you have to follow. One of them is the most important." Trance leaned forward and stared her straight in the face. "You cannot change anything, Beka. It's a law of time travel and alteration. You can't change anything. You can't run up to Dylan and tell him to stop the war. You can't run up to Tyr and tell him to start sucking up to Elsbett early so when Charlemagne is out of the way he won't have to wait a year to become Archduke. You can't do any of that, Beka. It's not allowed. You can come back with me, but only if you swear on your life and on Harper's that you'll stay out of sight. If nobody sees you, the chances of you saying anything which you shouldn't are very slim. As long as nobody sees you, we should be okay. Besides, as soon as the machine starts making time and space go haywire, Andromeda's sensors will be thrown off line anyway, so even if you do wind up on the Andromeda, chances are you won't be seen. But Beka, I mean it. You can't change anything. The only one who will be changing things will be me. And when I stay there, I won't be telling everybody everything. It's not allowed. You're not allowed to cheat. Everyone has to live life according to their own choices. You and I aren't allowed to make those choices for them. Do you understand, Beka? How important this is?"  
  
Beka slowly nodded. She couldn't help but feel that she could make everything completely alright if she just warned Dylan. Or Harper. Or Tyr. Or Rommie. God, she could turn this gamble into a sure fire chance.  
  
But no. She couldn't do that. She had to play by the rules.  
  
Trance was looking at her. She smiled gently. "You see? That's why we don't get you mortals mixed up in this. It's complicated and it's hard on the heart, isn't it?"  
  
Beka numbly nodded. Well, at least she'd get to see them. She wouldn't have guaranteed their safety or their better futures, but at least, she'd come back here having seen them.  
  
And for that, she'd have given anything in the universe. Even her life.  
  
She gave Trance a smile. "Okay. I promise. I'll be good. I'll stay out of sight and I won't open my mouth. I promise." She was silent for a moment, before curiousity go the best of her and she looked up at Trance again. "Trance, you said I could see all of them, right? How?"  
  
Trance waved around at the kitchen and the ship surrounding her.  
  
"From here. If you stay here, you can just hook up the viewscreen to show you what's going on inside the machine shop. You'll be able to see everyone, and also see how I do things. You won't be able to hear anything, since your com link is still screwed from trying to mask your signal from Tyr's henchmen, but you'll be able to see."  
  
Beka couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It was good enough for her to see Dylan, and Tyr and Rommie, hell, even younger Trance from a viewscreen.  
  
But she wanted to see Harper for real. After so many years of only seeing him in her mind and her delusions, she finally wanted to see him for real. Hear him breath. See him smile.  
  
But she pushed that aside. At least Trance was letting her come with her. At least she'd get to see them.  
  
She gave Trance a smile. "Alright, Ms. Gemini. What do we have to do?"  
  
Trance smiled and nodded at the duffel bag. "Just throw together some weird techno gadget which Hoehne has stuffed into that bag for me. It's pretty simple."  
  
An hour later, Trance and Beka were standing in the middle of the corridor, between them the glowing, whirring machine.  
  
Beka cocked her head as she stared at it. It seemed smaller than the last one she had seen. But that was probably just because that other one had been properly set on a table, and this one was just lying on a wide, empty corridor.  
  
Trance brushed a braid away from her face and smiled down at the glowing machine.  
  
"Well, it looks pretty much like the original. Even Harper would have been proud."  
  
Beka smiled sadly at that remark, but inwardly, her heart lurched. Soon, she'd see him. Soon.  
  
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her short, spiky hair.  
  
Trance glanced at her. "You ready?"  
  
Beka nodded, feeling slightly nervous. Time travelling through space wasn't something she had ever done before.  
  
Trance knelt down and flipped a small black switch. Immediately, the machine started growing with a faint green light and the wires lit up in brilliant colors. The whirring of the mechanics inside of the device got louder.  
  
Trance stepped over it, her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced over the machine, making sure all the wires were connected properly. Then, she stepped back and pushed another button on it.  
  
Suddenly, a swirling cloud of blue haze poured from the machine. Spinning and swirling, the blue haze whirled and Beka saw small sparks flying through it. The twisting electric sparks slowly melted together until they formed something that resembled a doorway.  
  
Beka stared. A door to the past.  
  
Trance was staring at the door, glancing over it with a critical eye.  
  
Finally, she nodded. "Okay, we're ready to go." She said easily.  
  
Glancing over her shoulder, she grasped Beka's good hand.  
  
Beka took another deep breath. She started stepping forward, towards the blue haze, ignoring that lurching jumps in her stomach, when she felt Trance freezing.  
  
Glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, Beka saw Trance thoughfully staring at the floor.  
  
"Trance?" Beka asked, gently shaking her arm.  
  
With a start, Trance looked at her and gave her a sad smile. "Do you know what day it is today, Beka?"  
  
Beka frowned. They were about to step through a doorway of entangled space and time and electricity into the past, and the girl was asking her what day it was.  
  
Beka shook her head.  
  
Trance gently squeezed her hand. Turning her face towards the doorway, Trance stepped towards it, slowly pulling Beka beside her.  
  
They stopped, their faces inches from the swirling blue haze. Beka could feel the electricity pulling her body towards it. She felt tiny little sparks landing on her face and snapping when they hit her implant.  
  
She glanced over at Trance who was staring at the doorway, that thoughtful expression and that sad smile still on her face.  
  
Trance saw her looking and smiled at her again.  
  
"Today's the anniversary of Harper's death. He died exactly four years ago." She said softly, her voice nearly lost among the whining of the machine and the sparks of the doorway.  
  
Beka stared at her, momentarily frozen.  
  
Trance gently pulled her hand, and together, they stepped into the swirling blue haze.  
  
As the world around her vanished and Beka felt herself being pulled through space and time itself, she squeezed her eye shut.  
  
All she was aware of was Trance's hand tightly clutching her own, and Trance's soft voice echoing through her mind.  
  
"Today's the anniversary of Harper's death. He died exactly four years ago." 


	16. Chapter 16

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
1.1.1 Chapter 16  
  
Author's Note: First of all, big apologies for the lateness of this. School's been crazy, but I came home on Friday determined to have this written and done by Saturday, since it would be symbolically perfect, since that was the night Ouroboros was airing. I started writing this the night that Ouroboros first aired, and I'd be finishing it the night it reran. But, alas, I was 24 hours late. Anyway, I hope you like the end of it. Yes, I know, it's finally over. I'm sorry.  
  
Before you start reading, I wanted to add in a little thing about the time travel I've written about. The entire thing is from Beka's point of view, and technically speaking, if Trance went back and changed everything, you know, saving Harper's life and blablabla, then the future to which Beka returns wouldn't exist. But I decided to ignore that, since I wanted to finish the story with Beka in the future. I know, I know, it makes no sense, but just read this pretending that the past and the future (or the present) are happening simultaneously. Weird I know, but give it a try.  
  
As usual, to the people who always write me feedback and keep me going, I am bowing down and kissing the ground upon which you walk. Any feedback about this last part, or the story as a whole would be greatly appreciated.  
  
Okay, now I'll be quiet. Have fun reading and ignore my weird timelines.  
  
  
  
* * * * * (Meanwhile) * * * * *  
  
Elsbett stared down at her husband who was lazily reclining in his leather chair while she leaned against his desk.  
  
She found herself completely speechless for a moment. For the first time in her entire life, Elsbett was finding herself speechless.  
  
When Tyr had first told her of Beka's crazy, impossible, incredibly foolish plan, Elsbett had wanted to laugh. Time travel and universe alternations were ridiculous concepts themselves, but when Tyr had matter-of-factly said that Beka and Trance intended to travel through time and space using some damn complicated sounding device—a Tesseract machine, that's right, Elsbett had wanted to laugh.  
  
But seeing the serious expression on Tyr's face and hearing him quietly asking her never to tell a soul about this, she realized with a lurch that he was serious.  
  
"You mean they are actually going to travel back in time and mess around with the past?" she stared at him. "That's absurd."  
  
Tyr shrugged. "Wherever that purple pixie is concerned, the situation always turns out absurd, but she's a lot more powerful than you give her credit for."  
  
Elsbett bit her lip and greeted this with silence. Finally, she looked back down at Tyr.  
  
"What do they hope to accomplish by this? Assuming that they don't emerge in the past as twisted and deformed lumps of matter."  
  
Tyr reached forward and quietly started playing around with a flexi which lay on his desk.  
  
"They intend to go back and somehow change the past. They—or, at least Beka, believe that by preventing Harper's death, they'll be able to alter the course of the future and prevent all of this." Tyr vaguely waved a hand around the room.  
  
Elsbett stared at him and slowly crossed her arms. A thought was occuring to her. She narrowed her eyes and continued staring down at him.  
  
"Tyr, you do know that if they succeed then this future in which we are currently living won't turn out the same way, don't you?"  
  
Tyr nodded, not looking at her. She thought it was because he didn't understand her point. She leaned forward, her arms still crossed.  
  
"Tyr, why are you doing this?"  
  
Silence greeted this. Elsbett thought he had gone mad. If Beka's absurd plan succeeded, Tyr would never be where he was now, living his dream as the alpha of a Pride and the father of two children.  
  
She arched an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. She couldn't think of a single reason which would justify Tyr being willing to let this all go.  
  
"Is it for Beka?" she asked.  
  
Tyr continued playing around with the flexi. He shrugged. "Partially. I know that her life here and now won't continue for much longer and won't be a life which anybody would want to live. I mean, she's already the most wanted woman in the universe. Either she spends the rest of her life in hiding, or the Admiral catches her. Neither scenario is one which I like to see Beka Valentine in. Or rather, the Beka Valentine who once existed."  
  
Elsbett frowned. That made sense. But something still wasn't right here. "You said partially. What's the other reason?" she gave a small laugh. "I mean, Tyr what in the all mighty universe would make you want to give up this life and risk never living it again? What or who is more important than your future?"  
  
A small smile flickered across Tyr's face. "You." He said. He said it so quietly that she hardly heard him. When she realized what he had said, she froze.  
  
She stared down at him. Finally, she found her voice. "Me?"  
  
Tyr nodded and slowly raised his eyes to her face. He looked at her, sadness within his brown eyes.  
  
"Yes, you."  
  
Elsbett slowly shook her head. "I don't understand."  
  
Tyr smiled. "Elsbett, we have been married for nearly two years. During those two years I have grown to love you. Deeply. I have never openly displayed these affections because I knew you would feel guilty because you could never reciprocate them." He said, so quietly and simply as if this was an everyday matter.  
  
Elsebett stared at him, speechless. He went on. "Elsbett, I know, just like you know that your heart will always belong to Charlemagne. When he died, a part of you died with him. That part will never return, nor will I ever be able to possess it." He smiled up at her. "That's why I'm willing to let Beka do this. If she goes back, there is a very good chance that in that alternate future which she will create, she will save Charlemagne's life and you will never lose him."  
  
Elsbett felt so shocked and surprised and—touched by this that she nearly fell over. Nobody, nobody in the entire universe, never mind an alpha male Nietzschean would ever do this for her. Nobody would respect her love so much. Nobody would ever love her so deeply and care for her so much that they would throw their own future away just so she could be happy.  
  
Tears brimmed her eyelids as she looked down at him.  
  
"Tyr, thank you. I really don't know what else to say, except, thank you. Thank you." She whispered.  
  
Tyr gave her another small smile. "Elsbett, don't thank me. You can thank a certain mudfoot engineer who made me make him a promise a long time ago."  
  
Pushing himself off the chair he was sitting on, Tyr leaned forward and gently wiped her tears off her cheek before lowering himself back down.  
  
Without another word, Tyr went back to playing around with the flexi on his desk.  
  
Elsbett slowly turned from the desk and walked towards the door.  
  
Before the reached the dark hallway, she paused for a moment, her hand on the doorframe.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder at the still figure sitting behind the desk in the dim room.  
  
"Thank you." She whispered, although he didn't hear her.  
  
Wiping another tear off her cheek, a calm descended around her and a heavy weight lifted off her heart which had been laid there years ago when Beka had contacted her to tell her Charlemagne was dead.  
  
Soon, she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. If Beka succeeded, she would never have to lose him. She would never have to feel that pain, that grief.  
  
A small smile flickered across her face. Slowly, she reached up and gently took hold of the clasp of the black pearl necklaces which hung around her neck. Unclasping the fragile lock, she pulled it off her neck and held it in her hand, rubbing the shining beads.  
  
"Thank you." She whispered again. Then, turning towards the dark hallway, clutching the pearls in her hands, she smiled and added a quiet afterthought into the darkness.  
  
"Good luck, Beka Valentine. I pray you mend your own heart, and with it, mend mine and everyone else's."  
  
* * * * * (On the Maru) * * * * *  
  
The blue haze of swirling electricity gradually faded around them. Beka was slightly thrown forward as the Tesseract machine released them.  
  
Breathing hard, Beka stared around herself, not letting go of Trance's hand.  
  
Even though there were still tight knots in her stomach and her head was swimming from the swirling mist, she stared around, hoping, praying and wishing that they had made it.  
  
"Did we do it?" Beka gasped out.  
  
Trance gently let go of Beka's hand and narrowed her eyes as she looked around herself.  
  
Stepping forward, Trance gazed down the corridor towards the cockpit. A small smile spread across her face as she nodded her chin at the cockpit.  
  
"Look for yourself."  
  
Beka stepped past her, and her special eye zoomed in towards her piloting chair and the viewscreen above it.  
  
She stared at the viewscreen. She had expected to see the usual long crack in the shattered glass, which she had put there when she had slammed that pipe into it when the Admiral had contacted her so long ago.  
  
She blinked. The screen was perfectly smooth. Not even a tiny dent.  
  
A shocked, surprised and incredibly relieved smile spread across her face. They had done it. They had really done it.  
  
"Trance, we did it. We're in the past." She whispered.  
  
Suddenly, the sound of airlock being slammed shut drifted towards them. Beka's eyes widened. Someone was on her ship.  
  
Trance quickly glanced over her shoulder and grabbed Beka's hand and yanked her into a corner and pulled her down until they were crouching on the floor, hidden from the corridor.  
  
Beka bit her lip. She didn't want to be crouching down here. She wanted to get up and go see who was on her ship.  
  
Painful memories floated up to her when she remembered the only previous two times when someone uninvited had boarded her ship.  
  
Once Dragans had come to take Dylan away from her, and the second time, the Dragans had come back and killed the Commander and left her with a metallic arm.  
  
"Trance! There's someone on my ship!" she whispered to the girl crouching beside her.  
  
Trance gave her a smile. "Of course there is, Beka."  
  
Beka frowned at her. "What do you mean, of course? And why the hell are we sitting here? What if they're Dragans, Trance? Ever thought about that?"  
  
Trance snorted with laughter. Beka was about to smack her. This wasn't funny. A cold shudder of fear had run up her spine when she realized that those uninvited guests could very well be the Admiral himself.  
  
She reached over and shook Trance, impatiently.  
  
Finally, Trance stopped laughing and stared at her. "Beka, don't you remember this?"  
  
Beka frowned. "The only thing I remember is what happened the last time uninvited guests boarded my ship and I didn't finish them off fast enough—"  
  
Trance laughed again. "Beka, those uninvited guests aren't strangers." She smiled at her. "They're us."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Beka, don't you remember this? The day we made the Tesseract machine? You and I were on the Maru together, remember?"  
  
Suddenly, Beka understood. With a relieved sigh, her fear receeded. Briefly closing her eye, she leaned back against the wall.  
  
They were okay. Nobody was here to hurt them. The only people on the ship were her and Trance.  
  
She smiled.  
  
Two sets of them. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Trance held a finger up to her lips to silence her.  
  
"Listen." She whispered, nodding down the corridor.  
  
Beka leaned over and strained her ears. Quiet voices drifted down to them.  
  
Beka immediately recognized Trance's voice. "What was that?" Beka smiled at the naiveness and innocent childishness in that voice. Glancing at the figure crouching beside her, Beka couldn't believe how much she had changed.  
  
Then, she froze. She heard someone answering Trance. Someone who sounded so much like her it was astounding.  
  
"Uhm, monsoo season on Gehena, I think."  
  
Beka's eyes widened. That was her. That had been her voice. She remembered having said that before. Her mind suddenly reeled backwards, passing through the years until she could picture herself, standing there before the airlock, having just slammed it shut and turning around and frowning down at a confused, scared younger Trance.  
  
Beka smiled.  
  
Suddenly, her words came rushing back to her. One word from that entire sentence came back to her. Gehena. Her eyes widened again and she turned to Trance.  
  
"Trance! Gehena!"  
  
Trance nodded. "The Tesseract machine didn't lie, Beka. Everything it showed us that day long ago came true. Even the tiny, insignificant things."  
  
Beka gaped at her. God, she had had no idea. That Beka. The one who stood in the corridor, puzzling over the fact why her ship had just opened to show her a planet she had only seen once before on a cargo run. Not knowing what that planet would mean to her later.  
  
Beka bit her lip. She had no idea. Absolutely no idea.  
  
Her astounded yet terrified thoughts were interupted, when she heard the distinct screeching of something else on her ship.  
  
Beka immediately pulled out her gun and turned its safety off, forgetting the fact that the other Beka standing down the corridor from her was also pulling out her force lance and turning it on.  
  
"Crap, Kalderans." Both Beka's exclaimed and by instinct, reached over and pushed their Trance's back. "Move back."  
  
Trance had whipped out her own gun and had stood up. She was staring down the corridor.  
  
Beka had just pushed herself up when she spied a Kalderan down the corridor.  
  
Pointing her gun, she shot it without a thought. With a screech, the creature fell backwards, it's heavy and scaley body falling onto the metal grating of her floor.  
  
Before Beka could say something to Trance, more Kalderans ran around the corner towards them.  
  
They stood side by side, shooting wildly at the screeching creatures which ran towards them. Beka glared at them.  
  
She had always hated Kalderans. They were all damn annoying and irritating.  
  
Amid the screeching of the shot Kalderans and the discharing of her and Trance's guns, she heard someone down the corridor from them shouting something, annoyance and confusion in their voice.  
  
"Why are there Kalderans on my ship? There shouldn't be Kalderans on my ship! There have never been Kalderans on my ship!"  
  
Beka smiled grimly as she shot another Kalderan as she heard her younger self.  
  
Well, she thought, don't worry Beka Valentine. There have never been Kalderans on our ship, and there never will be.  
  
Suddenly, she frowned and mulled over what she had just thought. It was true that there never had been Kalderans on her ship, not in the other Beka's past or in hers. But then why were there Kalderans on—  
  
Suddenly, her eye widened and she glanced over at Trance.  
  
"Trance! These Kalderans aren't from my future are they? They're from yours!" she hissed over at her.  
  
Trance shrugged apologetically as she shot another Kalderan. "Sorry. I brought them with me."  
  
Suddenly, younger Trance's voice drifted over to them.  
  
"Yet."  
  
Then Beka heard herself answering. "You mean these guys are from our future?"  
  
"Something to look forward to."  
  
Trance, the older one, rolled her eyes at that and narrowed her eyes as she shot another Kalderan.  
  
"I had such a sense of humor in those days." She muttered. Suddenly, the flow of Kalderans down their corridor ceased.  
  
Glancing over her shoulder with her long braids flying over her shoulder, Trance grabbed Beka's hand and quickly ran down the corridor, away from their past selves. Or other selves. Beka wasn't sure what to call them. After all, they were in the present now, weren't they? So they couldn't call the people living in this time their past selves. But they weren't their present selves either. Beka was her present self.  
  
Shoving all that complicated time mumbo-jumbo out of her mind, Beka decided to leave such matters up to Trance.  
  
She ran after Trance, who paused before every doorway they were passing to check for Kalderans.  
  
At one doorway, Trance had glanced up and down and nodded after she was sure there were no annoying screechers hiding there.  
  
"You know what I was surprised to learn about them? They can actually be quiet and pretty sly when they're trying to sneak up on someone. It's amazing. They make so much damn noise most of their lives, but when you least expect it, they can be sitting right beside you and breathing down your neck without you noticing." A small shudder ran down Trance's back, but Beka ignored it.  
  
Just as they stepped into the open corridor, a screech rose up from somewhere behind Beka's elbow.  
  
Her eyes widening, she fumbled with her gun, only to drop it. Swearing under her breath, she whirled around to face the Kalderan, who had its claws outstretched and was about to leap on her.  
  
It hissed at her and Beka swore she saw something red glowing underneath its dark goggles.  
  
It whipped its gun and was about to shot when Beka reached out with her good hand and ripped the gun out of its grasp.  
  
Jumping forward, her metallic arm outstretched, she grabbed the screeching creature by the neck and twisted.  
  
With a small crunch, she broke its neck. Releasing it, its body dropped from her metal grasp and fell with a clunk onto the floor.  
  
Beka flexed her metallic fingers and then turned back to Trance. Trance was staring at her.  
  
Beka smiled. "The hand is mostly a nuisance but it does have its good points."  
  
Trance smiled and wryly shook her head before turning and continuing down the corridor.  
  
Finally, they reached the ladder leading up to the cargo bay right before the engineering room.  
  
Beka frowned when Trance stopped at the foot of the ladder.  
  
"What the hell are we doing here?" she whispered.  
  
"I'm dropping you off."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's too dangerous for you to stay here, Beka. Someone might see you."  
  
"Trance, I don't want to just crawl into a corner and hide!" she protested  
  
Trance raised an eyebrow and looked at her in that no-nonsense way of hers.  
  
"Beka, when I let you come back with me, you said you'd play by the rules. This is my way of enforcing those rules."  
  
Beka was about to open her mouth again, but then realized that argueing with her would be useless. Turning, Beka grabbed onto the rungs of the ladder. Just before she scampered up them, she felt Trance's hand on her shoulder. Beka glanced at her.  
  
"And remember, Beka. Do not, under any circumstances, allow anyone to see you. Especially your other self." She said, slowly and patiently enunciating each word as if she was talking to a child.  
  
Beka gaver her a small nod and smiled at her. "Trance, I know. Trust me, I'll do my best."  
  
"And remember, don't change anything."  
  
Beka nearly laughed. "What do you want me to do, sign an oath, or something?"  
  
Shaking her head, Beka pulled herself up the ladder to the cargo bay.  
  
Pulling herself up until she was standing on the wide, empty floor, she quickly glanced around, looking for a place to hide.  
  
Biting her lip, she let her special eye roam around, glancing into hidden corners and empty crates which lay around.  
  
Finally, she saw a small niche beside her, which was hidden quite well from the ladder and the main part of the hold.  
  
Smiling, she ran over and crammed herself into the corner. Crouching down, she leaned against the wall. She was going to holster her gun, but she decided against it. She knew Kalderans would come up, and that her other self was going to follow them. She remembered that.  
  
But she had no way of knowing whether some of the screeching nuisances would poke its head into her corner.  
  
Relaxing, she let her metallic arm dangle down by her side while her good hand clutched her gun, her finger on the trigger.  
  
She strained her ears to hear something from below her. She heard the screeching of Kalderans and the discharging of weapons as her Trance and her other self shot them.  
  
The hum of the engines below her feet sounded strangely out of place to her. Here she was, crouching in a corner on her own ship, hiding from a younger version of herself.  
  
Absurd.  
  
Suddenly, she heard the low hissing of Kalderan and she sound of claws grating on metal rungs. They were coming up the ladder.  
  
She heard them leap onto the metal grating, and hissing amongst each other as they looked around the cargo bay.  
  
Beka involuntarily pulled herself further back, praying they wouldn't see her. She could just imagine sitting here and fighting off Kalderans as her other self came around the corner and stared down at her.  
  
Beka nearly smiled at that and wondered what she would say if that would really happen. Hi? No, no, no. What about, hey! You're Beka, I'm Beka, what a coincidence!  
  
She rolled her eye. Yeah, that would really go off well.  
  
Listening to the Kalderans milling around her cargo bay, hissing and quietly screeching amongst each other, she suddenly heard someone climbing up the ladder. She couldn't hear any hisses and she certainly couldn't hear any claws scratching on the rungs of the ladder.  
  
She bit her lip. That was her. Her other self.  
  
She flattened herself against the wall as she heard her other self pulling herself onto the cargo bay.  
  
Right away, the Kalderans screeched in irritation at having been found, and the loud discharging of a force lance reached Beka's ears. Screeches of pain and annoyance filled the cargo bay as heavy thuds resounded from bodies falling to the floor.  
  
Beka heard the sound of her other selves boots walking across the floor, shooting the few Kalderans which Beka knew were hiding behind the empty crates littered across the floor.  
  
Suddenly, it hit her.  
  
Her other self was in the same room as her. She was right around that little corner of hers. Standing there, just a few meters away.  
  
Beka bit her lip. God, she wanted to see herself. Just for an instance.  
  
She tried remembering what her other self looked like back then. Blond hair. Straight, nice clothes. A force lance in her hand. And best of all, she wouldn't be a cyborg.  
  
Beka reached up and lightly touched her implant. She could feel the edge of it where it was welded into her smooth skin.  
  
It was then that curiousity really got the best of her. She couldn't just sit here and not see. She wanted to see herself. Just for an instant.  
  
She thought about what Trance would say, but then pushed that aside. After all, she wouldn't let her other self see her. She'd just quickly peek around the corner and then duck back.  
  
Yeah.  
  
Excitement growing within her like a little child, she crept towards the edge of her little niche.  
  
Cradling the gun in her hand, she used her metallic arm to pull herself up.  
  
Surprisingly, she found herself being a little nervous. What if her other self would see her? What if she would scream and run away?  
  
No, no, no. That was still her out there. No matter how she looked at it. That was still her. Growing braver, she slowly stepped out from behind the wall and her special eye immediately zoomed around the cargo bay.  
  
Kalderan corpses lay strewn around and she saw one crouching behind an abandoned crate, wildly staring around.  
  
Then Beka saw herself. She was standing where she knew she would be. At the far end of the cargo bay, she had her back to her. The force lance in her hands, she was shooting the few Kalderans who had run to hide in the far corners of the bay.  
  
Beka stared at herself. Although she could only see the back of her, the difference was clear.  
  
The nice clothes, the blond hair. Beka reached up and ran a hand through her short, orangey red spikes. Blond hair. She had blond hair.  
  
Mournful tears brimmed her eyelids as she stared at her past self. Blond hair. She had blond hair.  
  
Suddenly, she spied a Kalderan pulling itself up the ladder to the bay. Crouching on the floor, it stared around itself. Since its eyesight was just as poor as the others were, it didn't see Beka standing just a few meters from it, but it immediately heard the firing of Beka's force lance. The other Beka.  
  
Turning to her other self, the Kalderan ran forward, its gun held tightly in its grasp. Beka's heart caught in her throat as she realized she might die. The future she wanted would vanish with one little shot. She was about to shout a warning to the other Beka to duck or to turn around and shot, but she quickly caught herself. She couldn't be seen. Damn it. She couldn't be seen.  
  
Without thinking, she pointed her gun and quickly fired.  
  
With a heavy thud and one last indigant screech, the Kalderan fell forward and landed on the floor.  
  
Beka breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. Suddenly, she noticed that there were no more Kalderans running around the bay or climbing up the ladder.  
  
She was alone. The only other person in the room was her other self.  
  
Beka reached down and turned on the safety on her gun. Suddenly, she forgot all about what Trance had said. She didn't care anymore.  
  
She just wanted to see herself. She wanted to talk to herself. Just for an instant. She wouldn't tell her anything, she promised herself that.  
  
Slowly, the other Beka spun around, having heard the shot. She glanced down at the dead Kalderan, her eyes widening. She raised her eyes upwards, until she was staring right at Beka.  
  
Beka slowly walked forward, her metallic arm dangling by her side. She was staring at herself.  
  
The blond hair which framed her face and the few strands which lay on her cheek. The smooth skin which wasn't covered in hideous scars or an ugly implant. The two piercing blue eyes which stared back into her one blue eye. The two slender arms which hung by her side. But most of all, Beka could sense her strength. She remembered what it felt like to be her. To feel strong. To feel as if she could do anything if she set her mind to it. To feel brave and pride herself in the person she was.  
  
Beka stared at her. This ghost of her past self. Who she used to be.  
  
The other Beka was staring at her too, but unlike the sadness and regret which shone in Beka's one eye, this other Beka was staring at her in confusion.  
  
"Thanks." Her other self managed to say, while still staring at the broken, wasted cyborg standing in front of her. The woman looked oddly familiar to her, but she couldn't remember where she had ever seen her before.  
  
Beka gave her a weak smile which the other Beka thought looked oddly out of place in her pale face and beneath that metallic implant which was welded in her face.  
  
"Don't mention it." She answered. She kept on looking at herself, seeing the shock spread across her face as she realized that her voice was just like her own. She saw the shock receed slightly and being replaced by confusion and a small hint of horror.  
  
"You're me." The other, stronger Beka finally managed to stammer out. Beka gave her another smile.  
  
God, she wanted to say something to her. Warn her about everything. Tell her not to make promises she couldn't keep. Not to ignore people who needed her. Not to make foolish mistakes. Not to blame herself for something which wasn't her fault.  
  
Tell her not to chase ghosts and live in shattered dreams.  
  
But she couldn't. No. She'd already broken one of Trance's rules, she couldn't break the other one. Besides, if Trance pulled this all off, her other self wouldn't need her warnings.  
  
Suddenly, Beka heard someone calling her name.  
  
"Beka, help!" A faint voice drifted up to them. That was Trance's voice. It sounded like the younger Trance, but Beka heard a sense of irritationg beneath the words.  
  
Damn. Trance must have seen her talking to her former self. God, she was in trouble now.  
  
Beka gave her other self another smile. She deserved it. It nearly hurt her to smile and Beka wasn't used to it, but she felt it was the least she could do. After all, she could only begin to imagine the shock her other self must be in right now, seeing her future self like this.  
  
"I can't get into this right now." She said, trying to sound apologetic. She stared at the blond hair, the smooth skin of her face and those two piercing blue eyes one more time before she turned around. "Later." She called over her shoulder as she quickly ran over to the ladder, leaving a younger, confused and blond Beka standing behind her.  
  
Beka quickly scampered down the ladder, praying that Trance would let her explain herself before she ripped her head off. She reached the bottom rung and jumped onto the floor. She was about to turn around when she heard someone walking up to her from behind her. That must be Trance.  
  
Beka whirled around, just as the person who had nearly run into her turned around too.  
  
Beka' breath caught in her throat. It was Trance alright.  
  
But a purple Trance.  
  
Beka saw the horror and confusion in her young eyes. "Beka?" she breathed. Beka stared at her. She tried to remember the last time she had seen this Trance. The young Trance. The Trance who wore childish dresses, named her flowers and wore sparkly pins in her curly hair and never carried a gun since she couldn't fire it properly. Beka wasn't surprised when she didn't see her carrying a gun. She nearly smiled as she remembered when she had scolded Trance about not carrying a weapon the day the Dragans had taken Dylan. It was so long ago.  
  
She finally remembered the last times she had seen this Trance. Her Trance. Sitting in her little back room, just down the corridor from her, Trance had left her. Beka remembered that small, innocent seeming smile which had flashed across her face when Beka had asked if she'd ever see her again.  
  
Suddenly, Beka lurched back to reality. Her eye widened. Shit. She was standing in front of Trance. Purple Trance.  
  
Oh, God. Her other Trance, golden Trance, was going to kill her.  
  
Trance was still gaping at her, horror evident in her eyes as she stared at the metal implant, the spiky hair, the tattered leather clothes and the metallic arm.  
  
Beka opened her mouth to say something, when she suddenly spied golden Trance standing behind her younger self in the door to engineering, her hands on her hips, her eyes wide and glaring at Beka.  
  
Oh, crap.  
  
Beka quickly but gently pushed past younger Trance, ignoring the questions which lay hidden in her eyes and quickly ran into the engine room.  
  
As soon as she entered the doorway, a hand reached out and yanked her into a little corner.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Trance hissed at her.  
  
"Please, Trance, let me explain."  
  
"Explain what? I told you you couldn't be seen Beka. Especially by your other self and by my other self. And now, in the space of ten minutes, you've paraded around in front of both of them. It isn't the way we do things, Beka! I told you that! You can't just march around as if it doesn't matter!" Her hysterical voice whispered harshly at her.  
  
Beka tried reasoning with her. "Trance, look. If I wouldn't have let my other self to see me, my other self would be dead right now and the future you're trying to create here wouldn't exist. And that part about your other self seeing me was an accident. I couldn't disappear off of the cargo bay and re-appear in here, now could I?"  
  
Trance sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'm still not happy about it, but fine." She bit her lip and glanced down worriedly, before finally looked up at Beka. "Okay. It's time. Your other self is going to come down from the cargo bay any minute now."  
  
Beka stared at her. "You mean you're going to change places with your other self here? Now?"  
  
Trance shrugged. "Now is as good time as any. Besides, if I do it now, chances are, Beka will probably forget all about what the future has in store for her. Or rather, had in store for her." She mumbled.  
  
She glanced around the room, and finally pointed to a small door. "Beka, while I do this, I want you to go and hide. Go through the door and make your way to the cockpit. I'll take care of everything here and I'll get Beka off the ship as soon as I can. Turn on the screen and hook it up to the machine shop. I'll be there with Harper and everyone else in a couple of minutes."  
  
With that, Trance stood up, pulling a long, silver sword out of her belt. Without a word of protest, Beka scampered across the floor and ran over to the door. Pulling it open, she ran down the corridor, careful to make sure she didn't come across anybody except dead Kalderans.  
  
Just before she turned the corner, she heard someone jump down from the ladder behind her.  
  
"Trance! You will never guess who I just met." She heard herself exclaim. Beka quickly flattened herself against the wall, praying that they wouldn't see her.  
  
Edging her way closer to the cockpit, Beka heard younger Trance's hysterical answer.  
  
"A scary, futuristic version of yourself? She went that way." Beka knew she was pointing at the engine room.  
  
Briefly closing her eyes, Beka muttered a quiet prayer that Trance would be able to pull it off. But, come to think of it, she couldn't ever remember a time when Trance hadn't come through for her. No matter what color she was.  
  
Beka crouched down, leaning against the wall behind her. She wasn't in the cockpit. She had run all the way to her piloting chair, thinking about hooking up the screen early, but then decided that she couldn't just sit and fiddle around with wires when she could hear how Trance did it. How Trance changed the past.  
  
So, she had crept along the corridor, pausing when she was right around the corner from the engine room, all the while praying that nobody decided to stick their heads around the corner.  
  
She heard the sound of a sword clanging on metal and then heard a sickening thud as something hid the ground. Beka guessed Trance must have finished off her Kalderan. Almost immediately, the sound of metal clanging ceased and Beka heard the sound of a gun firing and another body hitting the floor with a screech. Beka chuckled as she imagined the surprise of their younger versions as they saw how well Trance could fight now. Well, after years of fighting Kalderans, she was an old professional at it.  
  
Suddenly, Beka spied a Kalderan creeping down the corridor towards the engine room, a gun cradled in its arms.  
  
Biting her lip to keep from swearing, Beka reached down and fumbled with her gun. Before she had a chance to grab it and fire, she heard Trance shout from within the room. "Behind you!" and moments later, a shot rang through the room and the Kalderan fell dead.  
  
Beka let out a relieved sigh. That one had been close too.  
  
The sounds of Kalderans screeching and guns firing ceased within the room, and from the shocked silence coming from within, Beka guessed that Trance must have turned around.  
  
"Trance!?" she heard her other self exclaiming in shock and confusion.  
  
"Beka!" Beka heard the smile in Trance's voice as she caught sight of her other self. She imagined that the sadness which she had felt when she had seen this blond, strong version of herself for the first time must be the same which Trance was feeling.  
  
A small silence, during which Beka knew Trance was staring at her other self, memories surfacing which her younger self knew nothing about.  
  
"I'd forgotten how beautiful you were." Beka heard Trance's soft voice.  
  
That hurt. Hurt a lot. Beka squeezed her eyes shut. She had felt Trance's regret. Felt her sadness. Felt her pity at what she had ceased to be. Beka slowly slid down the wall she was leaning on until she was sitting on the floor.  
  
A small sob crept up her throat and Beka pulled her hands up and covered her face with it. As she started bitterly sobbing, she realized with a sickening lurch that her good hand was covering her metal implant, and her metallic hand was covering her actual skin.  
  
There was no part of her which was beautiful anymore. No matter what she did, she would always be like this. An ugly cyborg who would never again be beautiful.  
  
Trance's words rang through her mind. Even her friends realized how ugly she had become. Even they longed to have back the Beka they had once known.  
  
She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She wanted that Beka back too. God, she wanted that Beka back.  
  
Suddenly, she realized that she couldn't stay here. With a lurch, she realized that at any moment, Trance and her other self—her beautiful, strong self—would come walking out of that engine room and see her.  
  
She slowly shook her head. No. That couldn't happen.  
  
She wiped the tears off her cheek and struggled to her feet. Grabbing the wall beside her to hold her up, she crept down the corridor towards the cockpit.  
  
Along the way, the stabbing hurt she had felt at Trance's words slowly receeded. After all, if Trance succeeded, she would always stay the way she had been.  
  
She'd never be like this. She'd never be someone who her friends were ashamed of. Never.  
  
A brave, little smile spread across her tear streaked face and she quietly ran the rest of the way to the cockpit.  
  
Beka crossed her legs as she sat in her piloting chair. The screen above her was open, the wires and cables behind the screen dangling down to her. She had a soldering wand lying on her lap and bunches of other cables on the floor or streaming down to the floor.  
  
She reached up, grabbed another wire and carefully soldered it together with one of the wires from her lap. Leaning back, she dropped the wand onto her lap and reached up for another wire.  
  
From behind her, she heard the sound of two people walking down the corridor towards airlock.  
  
Holding onto her armrests, she leaned over and her special eye zoomed down the long corridor until she saw the backs of her other self walking beside her Trance. Her golden Trance.  
  
Beka smiled. She did it. She actually changed places with purple Trance. Beka cocked her head towards the engine room, wondering if the other Trance was really gone. But when she didn't hear anything, she knew that she was gone. Into the past, present or future, Beka didn't know.  
  
Beka leaned further and nearly fell out of her chair, trying to hear what they were saying.  
  
"Beka if I tell you everything it'll be very dangerous for me, for you, for everyone. But please believe me, this is a watershed event in space and time and if we don't handle this crisis exactly right, things are going to go very badly for us."  
  
Beka smiled as she heard Trance's voice. Her other self, who was walking beside Trance, had no idea how right Trance was. If they didn't handle this 'crisis' the right way, everything would turn out the way it did the first time around and her other self would eventually live to see the future she had glimpsed in her. Beka bit her lip. And that could never happen. Never.  
  
She heard herself answering Trance. "So that's why you changed places with your other self. To make sure things go right?" Beka smiled again. She had always been damn brilliant.  
  
"You catch on quick, Captain Valentine." She muttered under her breath.  
  
She heard Trance pause and heard her hesitate. "Well, I can't make things go right. Not exactly. But I do know how things can go wrong because I've been there, and trust me, you don't want to live that future. No one does."  
  
Another stab of pain flickered within her. But as much as the truth hurt, Trance was right. On both counts. No, Trance couldn't fix everything and couldn't prevent every little mishap which her other self would encounter, and no, the future which Beka was living now was definitely not something anybody would want to live. She bit her lip and stared down at the bundle of wires in her lap. It was sad, not fair, but still, it was the truth.  
  
She heard her other self laugh and heard the sceptism. "This is crazy. I thought the past was immutable. That it can't be changed."  
  
Beka smiled to herself. Oh, if she only knew.  
  
She heard Trance answering her. "It can't. But this isn't the past, this is the present and I can fix it. So, come on."  
  
She heard herself saying something else, but they were too far away for her to hear them any more.  
  
She took a deep breath. Now it was all up to Trance. It was up to her to prevent that future. That future which no one wanted to live. The future which she had created and was stuck in for the rest of her life.  
  
Suddenly, she felt her ship vibrating slightly. She leaned over again and saw a haze of blue light flickering around the two walking women who were just about to reach the airlock. The light swallowed them, and then disappeared, leaving the ship empty and silent.  
  
All except for her.  
  
Beka suddenly found herself missing the Colonel. Now of all times, she missed the Colonel. She had gotten so used to her company over these years.  
  
Come to think of it, they had never made it an issue over her having moved into the Maru. She had never asked and Beka had never told her to. She had just come and stayed. It had always seemed like the most natural thing to do. Now, Beka couldn't imagine not having her around.  
  
She smiled wryly and went back to hooking up her screen to the machine shop.  
  
After soldering together a few more wires and punching around on the buttons beneath the screen, static filled the screen, and after she pressed another button, the image was replaced by the empty machine shop.  
  
She stared around the room. Right in front of her she saw the Tesseract machine. The original one. She saw the wires glowing in bright colors and she nearly swore she heard the whirring of the machine as it lay there, waiting to be turned on.  
  
Suddenly, her ship was rocked again. She frowned. Another Tesseract. She was just about to lean over to make sure no more Kalderans had been brought onto her ship, when she heard a voice.  
  
"This is new."  
  
Just that. Those three words.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat and she thought she must be dreaming. Her mind went numb, she couldn't breath and the wires lying on her lap lay in a heap, her numb fingers lying entangled within them.  
  
That was him. Harper. He was on her ship. Alive.  
  
A surge of happiness swept through her and wild excitement filled her. She was about to leap out of her chair and run over to him, the cry of his name already on her lips, when she remembered she couldn't be seen.  
  
Taking a deep, shaking breath, she gripped the armrests, forcing herself not to move.  
  
That was Harper! Harper! He was alive! Her mind screamed these words at her. She swallowed, hard.  
  
No. She couldn't let him see her. It would wreck everything.  
  
A sob rose in her throat as she listened to his footsteps fade away on the metal grating.  
  
Stop! Come back! She wanted to scream. But she couldn't. Biting her lip, she squeezed her eye shut.  
  
She had to stay here. Soon, she'd see him.  
  
But another part of her, her heart, cried out that she'd only see him on the screen above her. Not in person.  
  
Swallowing her happiness and her excitement, she took another shaky breath and forced herself to calm down.  
  
She'd see him. She promised herself that. Before she left, before the machine was destroyed and she went back to living her own life, she'd see him. The real him. She had to.  
  
Opening her eyes, she forced her shaking hands to keep on working.  
  
She'd see him. She had to.  
  
Beka sat back and stared up at the viewscreen. Her ship had once again rocked back and forth a few minutes ago, and Beka knew that Harper and Rekeeb had left. Right now, she knew they were in the corridor beside the machine shop, lying there, sprawled out.  
  
She knew that her other self and Trance would find them any second, and then Trance would hopefully bring them into the machine shop.  
  
As tension filled her and a frusteration at the entire situation being out of her hands, Beka drummed her fingers on her armrest, waiting and staring at the empty machine shop above her.  
  
Finally, she saw the door slide open and Trance walked through, her face filled with determination and concentration.  
  
Then, she saw a paranoid and extremely nervous Rekeeb walk in behind Trance and cower beside the counter. Beka nearly smiled. She remembered how much Perseids had annoyed her, especially their cowardice. But now, she didn't mind them at all. Her thoughts turned to the General. He too had always been paranoid and ready to run away with his chin between his legs, but when it counted and when his friends lives were on the line, he was braver than anyone she had ever known.  
  
She smiled sadly. That was her only regret in this new future which Trance was going to create. Her other self would never get to know the General, or the Commander, or the Colonel in the same way in which she had. She'd never grow so close to them that they were like her family. But, on the other hand, she remembered that in this new future none of those people would die. She smiled. It was a small way to pay them back for their loyalty and friendship, but at least it was something.  
  
Her attention snapped back up to the screen when she saw her other self striding into the room, and then saw a smaller figure coming in behind her other self.  
  
Her eyes widened and she froze.  
  
It was Harper.  
  
She stared up at him. Standing there, his face pale and his eyes filled with worry, his blond hair sticking up all over the place, he was just as she remembered him.  
  
She forgot about the fact that he only had a few hours left to live. She forgot about what had happened the last time she had been standing in that room. The only thought in her mind was that that was Harper. Alive. Walking around. It was Harper.  
  
Unaware of what she was doing, she reached up her good hand and gently touched the screen.  
  
It was Harper.  
  
Slowly, she shook herself and forced herself to pay attention. This was important. Her other selves future, and all the other futures of the people standing in that room depended on this moment.  
  
Suddenly, she saw the other door sliding open, and two bedraggled figures walked through it.  
  
Beka's breath caught in her throat as she saw them.  
  
Rommie. And Dylan. Standing there. Alive.  
  
She stared up at them. As they stood there, side by side, she studied their faces. She saw Dylan say something and saw Rommie frowning at Trance. Beka knew that they were talking to Trance over what had happened to her. But Beka wasn't worried about that.  
  
She was remembering the last time she had seen them.  
  
Rommie, standing there in the hangar bay doors, completely calm amid the chaos of the exploding ship around her, willing to die because of her unwavering loyalty to Harper. To that man standing up there on the screen, whose eyes were nervously darting around the room. Beka knew he had no idea. No idea that Rommie died for him. That she had been loyal to him to her death. He would never know.  
  
And Dylan. Standing there, confusion in his tired eyes as he argued with Trance over something, Beka remembered the last time she had seen him. Handcuffs around his wrists, his face tired and pale, as he stood there in that jail cell and asked her to fight for him. He would never know that either. He would never know that Beka had kept on fighting for him and miserably failed. That she destroyed his Commonwealth. That she took it to her heart when he had told her so long ago that 'it doesn't matter if we win, all that matters in life is that you tried.' He would never know.  
  
Beka bit her lip as she stared at all of her friends.  
  
Suddenly, she saw Rommie's eyes flicker up at the ceiling. Beka felt a dull thud and could hear a distant crunching of metal around her. Swarmers. The Magog had come.  
  
She didn't take her eyes off the screen. She could almost hear Rommie saying that Magog have attached to the hull. Then, she saw all of them moving towards the far door through which a Magog was trying to run. The Magog was shot and collapsed onto the floor, and moments later, Beka saw Tyr throwing himself inside and onto the floor, firing madly at the screeching creatures still trying to get into the machine shop.  
  
Beka stared at Tyr. She saw him slowly get up and ask Dylan something and then slowly walk over to the machine. He noticed Trance with a start and pulled out his gun and pointed it at her.  
  
Beka smiled. He had no idea that in a few years he would be the Archduke of the most powerful pride in the universe next to the Drago Katzov. That he would be the father of two children. That he would marry Elsbett Bolivar. He had no idea of the guilt and pain which was just a few hours away from him. No idea that the woman he was pointing his gun at would one day save him from that guilt and grief.  
  
She saw Dylan glancing at the machine and then at Harper. Saw Harper reluctantly telling Dylan about Hoehne being dead. Saw her other self listing off their options, and saw the hope on Rekeebs face. She guessed that she must have just suggested destroying the machine. She looked back at Dylan, and heard him ask that question. That question which had created all of this chaos and misery. The question which lead to Trance standing there, having come from the future to fix everything.  
  
Beka closed her eyes. She didn't need to see anymore. She could see it all in her mind.  
  
"So, Mr.Harper, what do you want to do about the machine?"  
  
She heard Harper's answer about how his life wasn't worth Hoehne's. Beka nearly smiled. Oh, Harper. Your life is worth more than the universe, she thought.  
  
She heard the arguments which had stemmed from this. How she had defended him and protested against it. How he had abruptly told her it was his choice to make and he had made it.  
  
A painful shudder went through her and her memories crashed to a halt. She didn't want to remember what happened next.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked up at the screen again. Just like in her memories, she saw her other self argueing with Harper. Saw Harper pulling out his gun and pointing at the machine. Saw how his hands were shaking and how pale his face was getting.  
  
She saw the relieved smile flicker across Rekeeb's face.  
  
No! Her heart screamed out. It's all happening again. A sob crept up her throat as she forced herself to turn away. No, no, no. It could happen again. Not again.  
  
Suddenly, she caught a small movement in the corner of her eye. Her head jerked up and she stared up at the screen.  
  
She saw Trance walk forward and saw her eyes glance over the machine on the table in front of her. She saw her eyes quickly dart back and forth between Harper and his gun and the rest of the people in the room who were either standing in shocked silence or were argueing. Beka held her breath, hoping and praying.  
  
That's when Trance did it. Her hand reached out, and with a determined look on her face, she flicked the switch and turned the machine on.  
  
A brilliant beam of light shot out of the machine and hit Harper squarely in the stomache. The beam was so strong that it lifted him off the floor and let him hang there in mid air. Beka stared in amazement while the six little Magog larvae tesseracted out of his guts and vaporized.  
  
Immediately, the beam broke and Harper floated to the ground. She saw Dylan and her other self reach forward and catch him.  
  
She saw the relieved smile which spread across Trance's face and saw her mumble something.  
  
Dylan glanced up at Trance and asked her something. Probably something about why she did it or what she did.  
  
Beka smiled when she saw Trance answer, that brilliant smile on her face. Although she couldn't hear her, Beka knew what she'd say.  
  
"I saved Harper's life."  
  
So simple. So small. Such a tiny, insignificant act, and yet, Trance had altered the entire universe by it.  
  
The smile on Beka's face grew as relief filled her. She realized tears were pouring down her face and she sobbed from happiness.  
  
It was over. They had done it. They had fixed things. She had fixed things. She had finally made everything right. Somewhere deep within her, she knew that saving Harper was no guarantee for making the perfect future, but she knew that with Trance there, there was little chance for everything turning out the same way.  
  
She leaned back against her chair, her heart feeling lighter and happier than it had in years.  
  
It was over.  
  
* * * * * (an hour later) * * * * *  
  
Beka quietly crept down the corridors of the Andromeda. Moving as quietly as possible and stopping at every corner to peek around and see if anyone was coming, she crept to the nearest ladder.  
  
Quickly scampering up it, her gun banging against her thigh, she reached the next deck. Her special eye zoomed down both sides of the corridor. It was deserted. Good.  
  
Barely allowing herself to breathe, she hauled herself up, and crouched and ran down the long hallway towards the next ladder.  
  
She had frantically contacted Trance half an hour ago. Right after she had seen Tyr carrying Harpers unconscious form out of the room (she had to force her mind to remember that the circumstances were different than they had been the last time Tyr had carried Harper from that room), she had wanted to go and see him. While he was unconscious it would be perfect. He wouldn't see her or hear her, but she could see him. She could actually be in the same room as him. She had nearly laughed out loud from excitement, when she remembered that they would destroy the machine soon. With a sickening lurch, she realized that the moment the machine was destroyed, she would go back to her own future. The one in which Harper had been dead for four years.  
  
No. That couldn't happen. She refused to leave without having seen him. So, after hooking up her screen to the med deck, she had contacted Trance.  
  
Trance had nearly fainted when she saw Beka's face looking at her out of her screen, and had started hissing that Rommie would be able to trace the signal and that then all hell would break lose. But Beka had reassured her that she had gotten quite a bit of practice of masking her signal from other people, and that even Rommie wouldn't find her.  
  
Then, Beka had begged Trance to let her see Harper. Of course, Trance had vividly protested at the idea. Not only was it dangerous for her, but what if Harper woke up while she was standing there? What if she would accidently run into Dylan, or Tyr, or her other self or Rommie while running to Med deck?  
  
Beka had waved all of her worries aside, but then Trance put her hands on her hips and asked Beka how she was planning on doing this if Tyr and Rommie dismantled the machine. Beka had then started begging her to ask Dylan not to tear the machine apart right then. She had pleaded with her and asked for only ten minutes. Ten minutes was all she needed. She'd get on the ship undetected, go the med deck, see Harper and then leave. She swore she'd be back on the Maru with nobody any wiser by the time Rommie ripped the first wire out of the machine.  
  
Trance had bitten her lip. At first, it had been on the tip of her tongue to say no, but then she saw Beka's pleading face.  
  
She knew as well as Beka did that after this, Beka would go back to her own life, the mess and chaos which she had created. Rather, which Harper's death had created. And that she would never see Harper ever again. Never.  
  
Looking at her desperate, pleading eyes, Trance stared at her former captain. She sighed. She owed her this. Beka had saved her and taken care of her too many times for her to push aside her last request.  
  
Beka looked at her. "Please, Trance. After I go back, I'll never see you again. Please, do this last favor for me. I'll never ask you anything ever again. Please."  
  
Finally, Trance once again shoved aside all of her training and the hissing disapproval of her brothers and sisters, and contacted Dylan to ask him not to dismantle the machine right away. When his confused voice had asked her why and had reminded her that Magog were still crawling over the ship and Rommie's internal sensors were still off line, Trance had asked for ten minutes. Just in case something hadn't been fixed properly in Harper and they needed to use it again. Beka had crossed her fingers, praying that Dylan would agree. Finally, he had sighed and told Rommie to turn on her internal defence system and take care of the Magog and that Trance had ten minutes. But exactly ten minutes. Not a second more.  
  
Beka smiled as she crept down the corridor. Med deck was just a few meters away from her. She was nearly there.  
  
Dylan had no idea what he had really done when he gave Trance those extra ten minutes. Although he would never know, Beka thanked him with all her heart. He had come through for her like he always had.  
  
When she reached the door, she glanced up and down the corridor one more time before the door slid open before her and she walked through.  
  
Trance was standing by a console, punching around on it. She glanced up when she heard the door open. She grinned at her.  
  
"Hey, you. Fancy running into you here." She nodded her chin at the figure lying on the bed.  
  
"He's unconscious and he won't be able to hear a thing you're saying, but I suppose that's a blessing in some ways." With that, she turned around and muttered something about going into the next room and analyizing some blood samples.  
  
Beka hardly heard her. She was staring at the figure on the bed. She realized it was the same bed. Same sheets. Same pillow. Everything was the same.  
  
Except the figure lying on this bed would live.  
  
Quietly, she crept up to his bed and stared down at him.  
  
He was sleeping peacefully. Probably Trance had sedated him so he wouldn't accidently wake up while she was there.  
  
He looked just the same. His pale face had some more color in it now, and there were no grimaces of pain or flushes of fevered confusion. His blond hair stuck up all over the place as usual. Trance had taken off his toolbelt and lay in a heap on the tale beside the bed. Beka reached over and slowly rubbed the worn leather. Nothing had changed.  
  
She looked back down at him. Her heart felt as if it would burst.  
  
She was really here. With Harper. And Harper was alive. He wasn't in her dreams, in her delusions, in her memories. He was really there.  
  
She let out a shaky breath. Slowly, she reached out her good hand and gently touched his cheek. He was really here.  
  
Tears brimmed her eyelid as she realized she hadn't seen him in four years. As she realized that the last time she had been here, in this room, with him, he was whispering his good byes to her and making her make promises which she spent years breaking.  
  
She bit her lip. Regret and guilt clawed at her heart again. She was about to start sobbing again, but quickly realized she didn't have a lot of time left, and that she had to be strong and hurry.  
  
She quietly watched him breathing. He wasn't gasping for breath, crying out in pain this time. No. He was perfectly peaceful. And he was going to live.  
  
She swallowed hard. Now was the time.  
  
"Seamus, I know I don't have a lot of time left, and that this is probably the riskiest and dumbest thing I've ever done, excluding that last attack on Gehena of course, but that's beside the point." She drew in a deep breath. She was rambling. Frusterated and annoyed, she forced herself to finally be brave for just a few minutes and say what she came here to say.  
  
"Harper, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I've made a lot of mistakes these past few years. You tried to warn me. You made me make those promises so I wouldn't mess up. So I wouldn't wreck everything. Well, I didn't listen. I mean, I tried to. At first. I tried letting you go, but it was too hard. It still is. I can't do it. I just miss you too much. So, without meaning to, I broke both of those promises I made. And for that, I'm sorry. I made a lot of stupid mistakes, and a lot of good people had to die. That's why I'm here. That's why Trance saved you. I know that no amount of my pitiful apologies will make up for those broken promises, but I'm hoping in this other future, my other self will keep those promises. I don't know if this makes sense to you. It does to me. But everything always makes sense to you, I mean, you understand everything, so I suppose this isn't any different." She took another deep breath and lightly touched his cheek again.  
  
"Harper, I came back and I made things right. I don't know if everything will turn out perfectly, nobody knows that, not even Trance, but at least I tried. And Dylan always says that that's all that matters. And now, I'm going to go back, and I'll try to keep those promises I broke. I'll let you go, just like you asked me to, and I'll take care of myself. Cause I know what I have to do now. I know how I have to end things. I hope you're not mad at me. I know I messed things up pretty badly, but I tried my hardest to fix them." She was crying now, tears rolling down her face. "Harper, I made things right for you. From now on, everything will be different. I won't say everything will turn out perfectly, but it'll turn out differently. And for that, I hope you can forgive me for the mess I've made. I know you would." She whispered.  
  
She looked down at him, peacefully sleeping. She would never see him again. Never. For the second time in her life, she had to say good bye to him. But this time, it would be her leaving, not him. She smiled.  
  
"Good bye, Seamus." She whispered. Leaning down, she gently kissed his forehead. He didn't stir.  
  
Quietly, she stepped back from the bed. Tearing her eyes off him, she turned around and found herself looking at Trance.  
  
Trance was smiling at her in that understanding way of hers. "Are you done?" she asked. Beka knew what she was asking.  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. I came and did everything I had to do. I'm ready to go back."  
  
Trance nodded. Both of their gazes drifted onto the floor for a moment, before Beka looked back up.  
  
"Well, I better head back. Dylan's going to personally go down to the machine shop and rip the wires out of that machine before I reach the Maru, and I'd probably end up on San-Ska-Ree or somewhere."  
  
Trance smiled. They stared at each other. "So, it's time to say good bye again."  
  
Beka nodded. "Twice in one lifetime. Must be some kind of record."  
  
They looked at each other, before Beka stepped forward and gave Trance a fierce hug. They held each other for some time before letting go.  
  
Beka stepped back from her friend. "Trance, I want to thank you. For all of this."  
  
Trance nodded. "You're one of my best friends, Beka. And when you're immortal, you treasure al the friends you have. No matter where you go, Beka, or what happens, I'll always be your best friend. Always."  
  
Beka smiled in gratitude. "So," she said, a small playful smile on her face. "I'm guessing that if I asked you if I'll ever see you again, you'll be forced to say no this time."  
  
Tance nodded sadly. "Yeah. But I think you know that."  
  
Beka nodded too. They both stared down at the floor beneath their feet. Slowly, Beka raised her eye.  
  
"Good bye, Trance." She whispered.  
  
"Good bye, Beka. I'll always be with you. Remember that." Trance said, her voice quiet.  
  
Without another word, Beka walked past her and went towards the door. Just before she reached it, the door slid open. Suddenly, she heard Trance calling her name. She stopped and turned back around.  
  
"I'm proud of you, Beka." Trance said.  
  
Beka stared at her. Nobody had ever said that to her before. Especially after the mess she had made. Nobody.  
  
A small glow flickered on in Beka's heart at those words. Trance was proud of her. Even though everyone else hated her and wished her dead, Trance was proud of her.  
  
Harper had forgiven her and Trance was proud of her.  
  
Turning back around, Beka walked through the door without a word and went down the corridor.  
  
When she reached her ship, she opened the airlock and jumped on board, not remembering how she had leapt on board her ship the same way with Dylan and Trance the night that they had lost Rommie.  
  
No. Her thoughts for once weren't buried in memories and pain.  
  
For once, she felt completely calm. And happy.  
  
After shutting the airlock, she leaned against the wall of her ship. Her ship. It finally meant something to her again.  
  
She smiled and slowly slid down the wall. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she hugged them. She felt happier and more relieved than she had in years.  
  
She didn't care about the fact that she was ugly cyborg, she didn't care that she was going to be thrown back into that world of chaos and hell which she had left behind her. She didn't care about any of that.  
  
All she cared about was that she had made things right. She had fixed things.  
  
It was over. It was finally over. After so many years of pain, misery and heartaches, it was all over.  
  
She smiled. She was ready to go home. 


	17. Chapter 17

1.1 A Heart's Cry  
  
Chapter 17  
  
* * * * * (Back in the future) * * * *  
  
Beka groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. God, she felt like she was going to hurl. Her head felt three sizes too big and her stomach was heaving.  
  
She stumbled forward, and immediately felt someone grabbing her and holding her steady.  
  
"Captain! Are you alright?" That was the Colonel. Beka gave her a weak smile.  
  
"As alright as anybody who time travelled over eight years of time in the space of three hours would be." She mumbled.  
  
The Colonel didn't reply but led her down the corridor to the kitchen. Stumbling through the doorway, the Colonel pulled Beka towards a stool and gently deposited her on it.  
  
Beka groaned again and reached up with her good hand and wearily rubbed her temples. Moments later, a glass of water appeared by her elbow. Beka smiled up at the Colonel, who was hovering over her, a concerned expression on her face.  
  
"Thanks." She muttered, before taking the glass and gingerly taking a sip. The cold water felt good.  
  
Beka put the glass back onto the counter but didn't let go of it. She stared down into the clear liquid, watching tiny air bubbles swimming around the surface of it.  
  
The Colonel was still looking down at her. "So, I take it that everything worked out?"  
  
Beka smiled wearily. "You mean we succeeded in not being twisted into lumps of deformed matter? Yes."  
  
"That's not entirely what I meant, Captain. I meant, is Mr.Harper alive?"  
  
Beka nodded, a small smile on her tired face. "Yeah." She whispered. "He's alive."  
  
The Colonel sighed. "Good. That means it's finally over. You fixed everything." She smiled at her in that fishy way of hers. "You did it."  
  
Beka glanced up at her. She wanted to feel as happy as the Colonel did. She wanted to feel that same relief. But she didn't.  
  
While she had sat there beside her airlock, waiting for Rommie to destroy the machine and get yanked back to the future, or rather, the present, she had realized something.  
  
By going back with Trance, she had managed to fix the past. All those lives she had destroyed would be saved and all the misery she had created would never exist.  
  
However, she had completely forgotten about the future. She had forgotten that here, where she was now, there were still some loose ends she had to take care of. Some things she had to fix, and no amount of time travelling would fix those things.  
  
She looked up at the Colonel who was staring at her in confusion, obviously not understanding why Beka wasn't happier than she appeared.  
  
"Colonel, I'm not done yet. I fixed the past, but I still have to fix the present. That way, everybody's future will turn out okay. The people living in the past and the present. All of their futures will be alright."  
  
The Colonel frowned. "Captain, in all due to respect, I don't see how you can fix anything here. I mean, look at us, Captain. We're both fugitives, living on a backwater planet nobody but criminals and druggies ever visits and being hunted by an entire Nietzschean Pride." She gave Beka a gentle smile. "Quite frankly, I don't see how you can fix any of that."  
  
Beka stared down into her water again.  
  
At first, she hadn't had any idea either. She had no clue how she would go about fixing the mess she had made in the present. But after thinking it through, she realized that there was something she could do.  
  
Something which she should have done a long time ago but had always been too much of a coward to do. She bit her lip. She still had some strength left. The strength that seeing Harper had put there. And now she would use that strength the way he would want her to use it.  
  
She looked up from her glass at the Colonel.  
  
"Colonel, I'm going to surrender to the Admiral."  
  
The Colonel's eyes widened and shock spread across her face. She gaped at Beka, absolutely speechless.  
  
"W—why now?" she stammered out.  
  
Beka smiled. "Now's as good time as any. I've fixed the past, and this is the only way I can fix the present. Hopefully if I surrender myself, the Admiral will agree to let our other forces go home, and hopefully, the wounds this war has created will start healing."  
  
The Colonel slowly nodded. It made sense. It was a good plan. She had been thinking of ways to make life easier for her battle weary troops who were still flying all around the universe, desperately trying to hide from Dragan patrols.  
  
She gave Beka a faint, but strong smile. "When do we surrender?"  
  
Beka gave her another small smile and let her gaze drop down into her water again. She slowly swirled the glass around and watched the water sparkling from the light shining from the kitchen lamp.  
  
"Colonel, I never said that we will surrender. I said that I will surrender." She said quietly.  
  
The smile abruptly disappeared off the Colonel's face and she frowned in confusion.  
  
"Captain, in all due to respect again, but are you insane?" she exclaimed, staring at her the same way she had looked at her when Beka had wanted to fly to the Sabra-Jaguar Homeworld and speak to Tyr in person.  
  
Beka gave her a soft smile. "Colonel, I know I'm far gone, and that many people would argue that I'm crazy, but I can assure you, I'm perfectly sane. Now, I beg of you, Colonel to please listen to me and not interupt me, or I swear, I'll lock you into the slipstream drive while I surrender." Taking a deep breath and tracing a small scratch on her glass, Beka looked down at the table. "Colonel, I've asked myself over the past couple of days exactly why you've stayed here all this time. Why, after everything that's happened and all the mistakes I made you didn't just leave me. I know that a long time ago you said that the only reason you stayed by my side was to protect me and this, and I quote, 'measley bucket of bolts', but I know that that's changed. I don't know if you stayed because I was all you had, and you were all I had, or if you felt guilty about thinking about leaving a pathetic, broken person like me all alone. I don't know. But over these years Colonel, you've been my best friend, and my family. You've always taken care of me, no matter how bad things got, and you never complained. And you were so loyal to me, that you, like the Commander and the General willingly followed me through hell when I destroyed everything, but you never said anything or yelled at me or got angry." Beka drew in a deep breath. "Colonel, I don't think you realize how much your friendship and loyalty means to me. I think, no, I know, that I wouldn't have come this far without you. You always picked me up when I fell down, and you never let go, even if I pulled you down with me and didn't realize it." Beka glanced up from her glass to the Colonel, who was quietly looking at her, her face blank. As usual. "And the only way I can possibly repay you for these years of friendship and loyalty is by giving you your life back. I know if can't come close to paying you back for everything, but it's all I can do." She held up a hand before the Colonel could start protesting, who got a frown on her face as she realized what Beka was trying to say. "Please, Colonel, I've made up my mind about this, and you know how irritatingly stubborn I can be. Besides, it's the only way I can repay for you everything. Please let me do this. It's all I can do." She took another deep breath and pushed her glass around the counter. "I'm going to contact the Admiral and ask him to come here and pick me up. Meanwhile, you'll start the Maru and fly away. I think you'll have about a two hour get away, during which you can stream back home. I'll tell the Admiral that the only way I'll surrender is if he gives you amnesty, and all our forces too. Later, you can contact them and tell them to go home. It's a small way to repay them, and you, for the hell I've pulled you all through, but at least it's something. You'll be free."  
  
The Colonel was looking at her, shock and confusion still shimmering in her dark eyes. But as Beka kept on looking at her, she swore she saw grateful tears brimming her eyelids. The Colonel was crying. For the first time, in all these years, the Colonel was crying.  
  
Reaching forward, the Colonel gently took Beka's good hand and squeezed it lightly. Beka squeezed back and gave her a small smile.  
  
The Colonel had never been good at dealing with such emotional things. This was her way of thanking her.  
  
And Beka didn't think that all the thank you's in the world could have made up for that one little squeeze.  
  
Beka slowly walked through her ship. This would be the last time she would walk down these corridors. These corridors which had been her home since she was born. Never again would she walk down these corridors, run her hands over the pipes on the walls or duck underneath hanging wires and step over doorway frames.  
  
A small smile flickered across Beka's face as she rounded the corner. She had thought that sadness would engulf her, but all she felt was happiness. And relief. Because now, it was truly over.  
  
She had contacted the Admiral half an hour ago. As soon as he had seen her, he had known what she wanted. She had quickly cut to the chase and said that she would surrender herself to him, if only he let the Colonel and all of their forces go.  
  
He had started to protest, but had then thought it over, and finally agreed. After all, he knew that if he said no, Beka would keep on hiding and running. Besides, getting her would be enough. For him, and for his Pride and the rest of the universe. Everyone knew who was really responsible for the war.  
  
After he had gruffly agreed, Beka had given him a small smile filled with gratitude and then quietly asked if he would come and pick her up on Mikradonia in a few hours. He had curtly nodded. Beka had given him a quiet smile and had told he didn't have to worry about bringing security with him. She wouldn't run.  
  
He nodded.  
  
Beka smiled gently as she ran her hands along the walls of her ship. She rounded another corner and slowly stepped over a doorway frame as she walked into her crew quarters.  
  
Out of habit, her feet walked her over to his bunk. Without really thinking about it, she grabbed hold of the ladder and pulled herself up onto his bed.  
  
Crawling across the neatly made blankets, she reached forward and grabbed hold of the empty sparky cola can which had lain on his shirt beside the pillow for nearly four years.  
  
Cradling it in her hands, she slowly climbed back down. Putting the can under her chin, she quickly straightened the bed before hoping back down.  
  
This would be the last time she would be in this room. The last time she'd see his bed. She closed her eyes and breathed in his smell. It was a lot fainter than it had been four years ago, but it was still his smell.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes and gently ran her thumb over the can in her hands. She'd never smell that smell again. She'd never lie on his bed and cry from grief and wallow in her memories.  
  
Then she realized she didn't need to anymore. She took a deep breath.  
  
Slowly, she forced her heart to let go of him. She felt no pain, no grief, no misery. Only relief and happiness.  
  
She had kept his promise. A small smile flickered across her face again. She had finally let him go. After four years, she had let go of him.  
  
Walking across the metal grating floor, she gently tossed the empty sparky cola can into the garbage can beside the closet and the laundry hamper.  
  
She smiled as she heard it hit the bottom of metal basket.  
  
It was finally over. The pain, the grief, the inability to accept his death, they were all gone.  
  
Gazing around the room one more time and breathing in his faint smell, she swore she saw him sitting on his bunk, legs dangling down and an understanding, proud smile on his face.  
  
She smiled up at him.  
  
"I did it, Seamus. I did it. I kept my promise." She whispered up at the faint ghost sitting on the bunk across from her.  
  
He smiled at her.  
  
Turning back around, she quietly walked out of the room, not looking back.  
  
Beka kept on staring around her ship as she slowly walked to the airlock. This was the last time she would walk down these corridors. She was amazed again at the lack of sadness and regret within her. She nearly laughed outloud. She didn't feel sad. No. She felt happier and freer than she had in years.  
  
The Colonel was waiting for her at the airlock, leaning against the wall. She reached up and tried tugging one of her blond strands behind her ears, but it immediately fell back across her face. Beka smiled. Some things never changed.  
  
The Colonel smiled at her. "So, is everything fixed now?" she asked quietly.  
  
Beka nodded. "Yup. The past, the present and the future. They're all okay now."  
  
"Are you sure you won't come with me, Captain?"  
  
Beka smiled at her. "No, Colonel. I have to do this. This is the last loose end I have to tie up. I can't close my eyes and ignore it. We both know how things get when I do that."  
  
A small smile flickered across the Colonel's face.  
  
Slowly, Beka reached out her hand and the Colonel grasped it and squeezed it again. It was their way of saying good bye. No tears, no hugs, no painful promises. Just simple, and small.  
  
Beka swallowed. In a way, one would think that this was the easiest good bye she had ever made. But in her heart, she knew that this was one of the hardest.  
  
Gently, they released each others hands and Beka walked past her and opened the airlock. Pressing the button on it, Beka suddenly found herself remembering how she couldn't reach that button when she was younger. How proud she had been when she was seven and could reach it for the first time. She smiled sadly. Now, she would never again press it.  
  
The airlock groaned and whined as it opened. Beka stared through the open doorway. Piles of junk lay beside their rotting berth. Drunks were stumbling past them, laughing over something. A dealer was standing further away from them, argueing with someone over the price of a broken pipe.  
  
Beka tore her eyes off the scene and glanced back at the Colonel. She cleared her throat. "Take good care of my rustbucket, Colonel."  
  
The Colonel nodded. "I always have, Captain."  
  
Beka turned back around and lightly jumped down, landing on the wooden planks of their berths.  
  
She was about to start walking when she heard the Colonel calling her name. She turned back around, staring up at the Castalian woman who was looking down at her from her ship.  
  
"I'm proud of you, Beka." She said softly.  
  
Beka stared at her. For the first time in all these years, the Colonel had called her by her first name. And she was proud of her.  
  
Beka gave her a brilliant smile as a surge of happiness filled her.  
  
She didn't have to thank her. The Colonel could see it in her eyes.  
  
Slowly, Beka turned back around and walked along the wooden planks, stepping over the pile of junk lying there. Reaching the end of the berth, she jumped down and started walking amongst the many people and crates and junk lying around.  
  
She didn't look back. She didn't need to.  
  
Trance was proud of her, Harper had forgiven her, and the Colonel was proud of her too.  
  
She briefly closed her eyes.  
  
She had finally fixed things. She had made things right. And she had kept her promises.  
  
She had mended the past and the present and created a better future.  
  
* * * * * (An hour later) * * * * *  
  
Beka sat on an empty wooden crate, leaning against a board behind her. She lazily looked at the people milling around her. She smiled. None of them had a clue that she was the most hunted woman in the universe and was waiting for the best trained soldiers of the Drago-Katzov Pride and the Admiral himself to pick her up.  
  
The Maru had left an hour ago. Beka had walked to this crate and had sat down on it, not taking her eyes off her ship. Moments after she left, the engines lit up with a roar. The berth shuddered and the entire wooden structure of the decaying station rocked so violently that Beka thought it might fall. People all around her panicked and ran away from it, screaming over some psychotic person trying to fly out of a place where ships aren't meant to move after they are landed.  
  
Beka had just sat there and looked, ignoring the panicky and hysterical people around her. Slowly, her ship rose up into the air and it's nose lifted up. With a large roar, the Maru started speeding up and with a brilliant flash, shot through the grey atmosphere surrounding the planet and disappeared.  
  
Beka followed it with her special eye, until it started whirring and her head started hurting and she finally looked back down.  
  
Again, she felt no sadness. No regrets. No fear of being left all alone. She only felt happiness and immense gratitude that she had been able to fix things. Make things right.  
  
Suddenly, she heard the roar of fighters above her. Glancing up and shielding her good eye from the harsh sun shining down on her, she spied several Dragan fighters flying down towards her. She smiled. She'd recognize those fighters anywhere.  
  
All around her, other people apparently recognized the sleek fighters as well, and they panicked and started running every which way, hauling huge piles of junk and illegal equipment out of the way and diving underneath berths or behind crates. All the ships around her were slammed shut, their airlock being barricaded shut.  
  
Beka didn't move. She sat there and patiently watched as the fighters slowed down and landed on the ground around her. The roar of engines was abruptly cut off when they all cut their engines. Immediately, all the airlocks were thrown open and more than a dozen Dragans poured out of their fighters. Shouting amongst each other and pointing at her, they surrounded her. They crouched down, their helmet jammed on their heads and their large guns trained on her, none of them taking their eyes off her.  
  
Beka ignored them. She knew they wouldn't shot her. They wouldn't dare. She glanced around herself, waiting for the Admiral to appear.  
  
Finally, she saw him. He stood in his airlock for a moment, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun and staring around. When he finally saw her, he jumped down and slowly strode towards her.  
  
As he approached her, quietly sitting on her crate, Beka stood up and faced him. She noticed that the grey curly hair on his head was a little sparses than the last time she had seen, but the glaring hatred in his eyes hadn't changed. Only now, there was a hint of pride in them.  
  
She lifted up her chin, a tiny bit of her old strength returning to her. The Admiral smiled when he saw it. So, she wasn't as far gone as his troops had predicted. He smiled again. Even though the woman had been an annoying thorn in his side for years now, he had to admit that she had guts. Standing there, before a small crate, surrounded by a dozen Nietzschean soldiers, she showed no fear, and no anger.  
  
The Admiral stared at her. She looked almost serene. Peaceful.  
  
He gave her a bitter smile. "Well, as I said the first time we met in person, I would normally say it's a pleasure to see you, but that would be a lie, so I won't."  
  
She gave him a small smile. "And as I told you back then, the feeling is mutual."  
  
"Some things never change." He shrugged.  
  
They stared at each other, until finally the Admiral gave her a small smile. "Well, Captain Valentine. A certain promise you made to me that last time we met in person comes to mind. A promise which you both kept and broke. Depending how you look at it."  
  
Beka smiled. She remembered. Marching down that corridor right after she had seen Dylan for the last time and she had promised him to keep on fighting, she had sworn to the Admiral that she wouldn't surrender. She had told him that she knew they wouldn't win, but they would make his life a living hell for as long as she and her forces had breath left in their bodies.  
  
"Well, Admiral, it seems that we both won, yet we both lost."  
  
He shrugged again. "You win some, you lose some."  
  
Beka looked at him. "Well, at least I tried. I told you at the beginning of all of this that we wouldn't win, but that I'd try. And I have. And that's all that matters. So, in a way, I'm the one who won."  
  
He glanced at her, hearing the truth behind her words. He looked down at the ground before fixing his cold eyes on her again.  
  
"So, are you ready to go, Captain Valentine?"  
  
Beka nodded. Seeing her nod, the Admiral's guards leapt up and marched towards her, intending on clustering around her and making sure she didn't try to run on the way to the ship.  
  
Beka laughed quietly. "Admiral, there is no need to guard me. After all, where would I run? Who in this universe would help me?" she smiled sadly. "I have nothing left in this life, Admiral."  
  
Without another word, she walked past him and slowly made her way towards his fighter.  
  
The Admiral stared down at the crate she had been sitting on, before turning around and looking after her.  
  
"So," he called over to her. "Is this finally the end?"  
  
Beka stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. She gave him a small smile.  
  
"No, Admiral." She said, quietly. "This is just the beginning."  
  
She had finally fixed everything. The past, the present and the future. She really had nothing left. No. Not in this life. But in the other life, the one Trance and her had created, there she could live the life she wanted to live. Everyone could now live the life they wanted to live.  
  
She smiled. She had kept her other promise to Harper.  
  
She had not only taken care of herself, but also everybody else, whether they were dead or still alive.  
  
Slowly, she turned back around and kept on walking towards the fighter, leaving the Admiral and his guards staring after her.  
  
None of them except for Beka saw the faint ghost of a small human sitting in the airlock of the fighter. He sat there, smiling at her proudly, his blue eyes sparkling. She had fixed everything. She had kept her promises.  
  
* * * (In a bar on a planet somewhere, three weeks later) * * *  
  
The two men sat in a bar, sipping glasses of beer and watching the news reel playing on the screen above them.  
  
A tall Nietzschean stood on the screen, announcing that the Drago-Katzov Pride had just executed the supreme leader of the allies, a Captain Valentine. He smirked and exclaimed that now justice had been served.  
  
One of the men put down his glass and pointed up at the screen. Turning to his friend, he jerked his head up at the screen. "You see the execution?"  
  
The other one shook his head. The previous man whistled. "Man, that was something. Poor woman looked like she'd been through a grinder. No clue what they did to her, but they must have banged her up pretty bad. Anyway, when they led her out onto the platform where the snipers were waiting, they let the crowd in to watch. You should have heard them. All of them, screaming and swearing at her, throwing junk at her. And you know what she did?"  
  
The other man shook his head, sipping his beer.  
  
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She just stood there, staring off into space, a small smile on her face. Totally calm and peaceful. No screaming, no fuss, nothing. Amazing." The man shook his head in amazement and took a sip of his beer. Suddenly, something occurred to him. He turned to his friend again. "You know who she reminded me of? That guy the Dragans killed a few years ago. God, must be nearly five years now. Don't remember who he was. Name was Captain Hunt or something. Anyway, he went the same way. All calm and peaceful." He shook his head again. "Amazing. Both of them."  
  
His friend smiled into his beer. "You think they knew each other?"  
  
The first man laughed and went back to drinking his beer, not knowing the immense truth in his friend's question.  
  
* * * * * (The Sabra-Jaguar homeworld) * * * *  
  
Tyr leaned back in his chair. He was trying to read the heavy book which lay in his lap, but found his thoughts wandering all over the place. Finally, he gave up and tossed the book onto his desk.  
  
He had heard of Beka's execution the same afternoon that it had happened. He smiled. Everybody had been so amazed at the calmness and peacefullness she had shown right before they shot her.  
  
Tyr hadn't been surprised. Not in the least.  
  
He knew that it had been exactly what Beka had wanted.  
  
Now, in both of her lives, in the past, and in the present, she was with them all. Rommie, Dylan, the General, the Commander and Charlemagne.  
  
And most important of all, Harper. He smiled. In one life she was with them in life, and in the other, she was with them in death.  
  
Beka had finally found the peace she had been looking for and blindly fighting for. She had not only fixed everything and made up for all of her mistakes, but she had won.  
  
In a weird, twisted sort of way, she had won. Despite leaving broken hearts, destroyed lives and misery behind her, she had still won.  
  
Tyr smiled again.  
  
She had won.  
  
Slowly, he picked up his book again and found his page again.  
  
She had finally found her peace and she had won.  
  
It was finally over. 


End file.
